


Cocks, Blood, Cunts and Booze!

by OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Castration, Cock Rings, Crazy Spartacus, Crucifixion, Dick Removal, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, High Sex, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Master/Slave, Mental Instability, More characters to be added, My First Work in This Fandom, Oral Sex, Other, Poor Crixus, Raped on Drugs, Rough Oral Sex, Sadness, Sexual Abuse, Spoilers, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Toys, Vaginal Sex, sex on drugs, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 96,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter/pseuds/OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter
Summary: It all began the night after the primus. Gannicus is to leave the next day and Crixus wants Gannicus to remember him always.Then it became apparent to the Gaul how little self control he has even when it comes to those he loves.





	1. Don't Be a Cunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ignisfatuusofnous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignisfatuusofnous/gifts).



> I recently got my friend into the show and realized that I haven't written any fics for this fandom. Which is a shame because I'm rather obsessed with it. My friend pointed out how often Crixus gives Gannicus bedroom eyes and I had to painstakingly figure something out that didn't spoil anything for her. She is barely into season three so it's difficult. Anyways your comments and kudos are always appreciated and as always I hope you enjoy!

Crixus nods his thanks to the medicus and makes his way across the training sands. He sighs heavily staring at the closed door. He couldn't imagine taking over this cell when the man leaves. Already expressed his mind in this matter to Batiatus. That being said he hesitates in his actions. His plan seemed so logical and easy when he formed it this afternoon. Now? Well: his heart was pounding and his fist was just hovering in mid-air. 

"Do not crowd, either break words or fuck off." Gannicus' voice was muffled through the door but Crixus didn't miss the tone of annoyance. Sighing he pushes the wood open and steps in. 

"Apologies. I was trying to find voice." He mutters trying not to stare. Gannicus was, gorgeous as usual of course, but lounging in his bed in nothing but his loin cloth. Barely any bruising from such a wonderful battle. Which Crixus found unfair what with his own injury.

"Well find it quickly and begone from sight. I have much on my mind and do not need the intrusion." Gannicus waves his hand lazily not looking up. Crixus shifts leaning against the doorway. 

"I do not know how to express heart." Gannicus tilts his head still staring at the ceiling. 

"Your words hold naught but confusion." Crixus sighs the silence between them stretching on for what seemed an eternity. 

"Never before had I wished for something to call my own." Gannicus finally looks at him quirking an eyebrow, "If only for the purpose to give it to you. A memento to recall me on quiet moments." 

Gannicus very slowly sits up staring intently at Crixus. The man was impossible to read. Hesitant, his eyes full of passion as they always have been. A fire only dimmed by a lack of confidence. Something he will need; or he will perish. Gannicus resists the urge to roll his eyes. The dumb cunt.

"You are not a common slave. Neither are you a normal gladiator. Crixus you are unlike any man I have ever met. That alone will keep you in memories." He didn't miss the red that stains the younger man's cheeks when he was called by name.

"You honor me." Gannicus snorts.

"You honor yourself. I speak but truth." Crixus shifts before stepping closer. 

"I spoke to Barca earlier." Gannicus raises an eyebrow confused with this change of topic. 

"Speak clearly so as I may try and find rest." He was annoyed again and Crixus crosses his arms. Something Gannicus notices he does when he was nervous. The two were silent for a moment before Crixus turns to leave. Sighing Gannicus follows him, "Crixus, don't be a fucking cunt. Come. Break words." Crixus pauses looking over his shoulder.

"Do not patronize me Gannicus. The sword comes naturally to me. Words not so much." Gannicus puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"I do not seek to insult. Perhaps if you tried speaking from the heart instead of the brain?" He offered steering Crixus back to his cell, noticing Ashur with the medicus. Ashur had been glaring darkly at Crixus since he woke. 

"Perhaps. I only fear you will turn away in horror and disgust." Gannicus laughs loudly shutting the door behind them.

"Wine?" He offers. Crixus shakes his head. Gannicus shrugs pouring himself a cup. "Proceed. I swear to it the worst I will do is tell you to fuck off." Crixus chuckles watching him chug. 

"I was told by Barca that the last time a man tried to lay with you they ended up with no cock." Gannicus laughs again. Crixus smiles softly and it was strange because no man's smile ever made Gannicus's cock stiffen before. Yet......

"Where as that is true it is not the full truth. I rejected his advances and in turn he tried to strike me down the next time we entered the arena. Twas how Batiatus gained an interest in me." Crixus nods. Makes sense.

"So, if I were to inform you that I wish to give you pleasure like you've never had before nor ever will again as a way for you to remember me by you wouldn't try to kill me?" He asks shifting. Gannicus blinks at him eyes wide. Never before has someone tempted him with such words. 

"Gods help me I've never had a proposition like that before." Crixus looks at him nervously. "Tell me then," Gannicus stands waltzing over smirking at the way Crixus flushes a muscle in his jaw working furiously, "what  _exactly_ is it that you would do to me?" Crixus swallows before looking Gannicus dead in the eye,

"I would worship you as the God you are. My tongue would memorize every inch of your skin," Crixus steps forward into Gannicus's space, "I would have you writhing, cock leaking and aching as you begged for my touch," Gannicus lets his mouth fall open in surprise. He never thought of Crixus in a sexual manner before. But at his heated words he feared that maybe Melita would be the last woman he lay with. 

"You seek to rest your cock in my ass?" He asks sarcastically smirking to hide his sudden worry. Crixus's eyes become hooded his hand reaching out to trace the necklace hanging on Gannicus collar bone.

"I seek," He starts leaning in, breath hot on Gannicus's neck, "to have you desperate for it." Goose bumps fly over his skin as Crixus gently kisses his shoulder working his way up Gannicus's throat. 

His first instinct was to shove Crixus away from him. But something kept him rooted to the spot. His heart was hammering against his ribs trying to gather his thoughts. They were interrupted as Crixus sank his teeth into the tender part of Gannicus's neck. A moan slips past his lips uncaring of the clatter his cup makes when it falls from his hand. Crixus hums as if in thought as he starts caressing Gannicus's sides. The Celt shivers tilting his head so Crixus could have better access to his neck. It was inconceivable to him just moments ago, yet now he found himself suddenly curious as to why a man would wish to have a cock in the ass. 

"Crixus." He breathes gaining the man's attention. "If you mention this to a single soul, know-"

"That you'll come back from whatever brothel you've made a home at and part my cock from my body. I understand." Crixus murmurs running his fingers through Gannicus's hair. His breath hitches as Crixus walks him backwards against the wall. 

"With my bare hands" He gasps as Crixus continues lavishing his neck. The man was being tentative. Gentle but firm with his attentions. He surprised himself by spreading his legs when Crixus's thigh nestle's between them. Crixus was solid and heavy against him and Gannicus was scared by how comforting he found it. 

True to his word Crixus seemed to be mapping out Gannicus' torso using his mouth and tongue to drive him mad. Parts of him that he doubted would ever be pleasurable had him gasping and keening. At one point he thought he heard himself whimper when Crixus sucked a bruise on his wrist. Crixus drops to his knees in front of him making quick work of his subligaculum. Gannicus felt a tremor of shame at the erection that bobs free. He's lived his life being repulsed by the same sex, always favoring the fairer in the highest regards. But there was nothing to stop the twitch of anticipation while Crixus rubs circles in Gannicus's hips. 

"Not yet where I'd like you." Crixus comments spreading Gannicus's thighs nipping at them distractedly. Gannicus tilts his head back with a moan. He didn't know what that meant. But he knows he was jutting himself outwards silently asking for Crixus's attentions just slightly higher and to the left. Instead he works his way down to his knee, then back up the other one. A bruise was made on his hip bone and Gannicus gives a small shout at the sharp bite. 

"Crixus," He growls tangling a hand into his hair. He was a little sad when Crixus had stepped outside this morning and was clean shaven and trimmed. However now was not the time to be sentimental. "Move to purpose or find consent withdrawn." His voice was a little more gravely than he intended but with the smirk Crixus gives him, lets him know that his point got across regardless. 

"Impatient as with all things. I am surprised how quickly you wish for me." Gannicus's eyes pop open and scowls down at him.

"And you are slow, and slow-minded. Too timid to take what you want and most assuredly going to find yourself on your back yet again." Crixus quirks an eyebrow at him his smirk never faltering. 

"Perhaps when we meet again. But not tonight Celt." Gannicus squeezes his eyes shut helpless to suddenly be imagining Crixus on his back being taken by him. "There it is." Crixus praises at the clear liquid beading on his tip. Gannicus feels his face grow hot, realizing he was leaking with want. It wasn't until Crixus has his hand wrapped around the base does Gannicus realize what was about to happen. 

Crixus laps at Gannicus fueled by the noises he was making. When Crixus slipped his dick down his throat Gannicus's breath stopped entirely for a moment and he seemed to forget his reservations as he whispered Crixus's name a few times his finger nails raking the Gaul's scalp. Crixus moans at the sensation taking note for future uses the way Gannicus cried out when he did. Crixus experimented with his tongue hoping it wasn't obvious that he's never done this before. Gannicus was limp against the wall, he felt dizzy as Crixus bobbed his head up and down. In a haze he realized that Crixus was only pumping when Gannicus was silent for more than a second. Gannicus moans hitting the back of his throat. He knows at some level that he's been softly thrusting into Crixus's mouth. He almost looses it when Crixus hollows his cheeks with a hum. He was panting feeling his balls tightening. He was close, more than ready even if it was because of another man.

"Fuck the gods, Crixus I-" Gannicus whines when Crixus pulls away standing up.

"Fear not, I shall take care of you." He rasped moving to the sensitive skin under Gannicus's ear. He groans loudly letting Crixus lead him to his bed and guide him down. He watches Crixus rid himself of his own clothes one handed, keeping Gannicus on edge with the other. It didn't surprise him when Crixus pulled a small vial out of the folds. 

"Oil?" Gannicus asks with a lope-sided smile. "Confident are you?" Crixus chuckles settling between Gannicus's thighs coating three fingers, earning a curious stare. 

"In truth, I did not think I would be successful. But after talking to Barca he gave it to me, noting it was better to be prepared." Gannicus nods tensing up when Crixus moves sliding a finger between his cheeks. "Relax. He said it was important for you to relax." Gannicus frowns laying back.

"I'm always relaxed, for starters. Secondly; what the fuck did you and Barca talk about?" Crixus chuckles again leaning down peppering Gannicus's chest with soft kisses jerking Gannicus until he was no longer tense. 

"I wanted to get this right. My desire is for you to remember me in a good light not a failed test." Gannicus huffs. 

Crixus strokes his fingers against his entrance making Gannicus arch. He wasn't sure if he wanted Crixus to do this. If he was going to enjoy it. If it was going to hurt. But before he could voice his concerns Crixus was slipping one finger in down to the knuckle. There was a burn as he was stretched. It made Gannicus gasp twisting. Whether to get closer or to get away he doesn't know. Then there was two fingers and Gannicus was gripping the blanket leaking more while Crixus scissors and curls his digits twisting his hand mesmerized by the way Gannicus was muttering in his native language. Then there was three. Gannicus grunted with slight discomfort. He's never been this full before and the sensation was strange but not exactly unpleasant. Crixus furrows his brows twisting and turning his fingers, wiggling them in focus. 

Then Gannicus's sight turned white. 

Crixus smiles at the silent scream Gannicus makes. His mouth a perfect 'O' as Crixus's finger pads rub the sensitive bundle of nerves. Barca had told him about it, and said it was difficult to find, but every man had it. Turns out to be true. Gannicus was leaking profusely pushing down against Crixus's hand awkwardly. Crixus beams, he never thought Gannicus could be awkward. It inflated his ego to be the one to do this. He worked Gannicus open loving the way the Celt found his voice in a strangled cry. 

"Beg Champion. Beg and learn the truth." Crixus whispers. Gannicus tosses his head back and forth his senses being assaulted. He wanted to scream the heavens down if only Crixus would end his suffering. His voice failed him. Nothing but a low whine was audible. Crixus refuses to stop his torment, not satisfied until he had words. Gannicus felt the heat twisting in his groin, he gasps thrusting into Crixus's hand; "Not yet," Crixus pulls both hands away quickly. Gannicus snarls sitting up to glare at him.   

"The fuck? Getting scared Crixus?" He snorts at Gannicus. 

"Hardly. But I told you; you have to beg." Gannicus rolls his eyes.

"I do not beg." He snips. Crixus tosses Gannicus's thighs onto his shoulders.

"You will." Gannicus bucks in utter shock when Crixus's mouth replaced his fingers. If this occurred to him before he does not recall. The only thing he was aware of in that moment was that he didn't want Crixus to stop. 

"Ah fuck, oooooh  _fuck_ the gods Crixus," Gannicus locks his ankles behind the Gaul's head humming in satisfaction at the delicious way Crixus worked his tongue. It amazed him how close he became just like this, "If you do not stop-" and then Crixus was pulling back, "Aah fuck no don't!" Gannicus wails reaching for him as Crixus moves to stand. 

"Worry not Champion," He whispers dipping his hand in the oil. "I simply move to increase your pleasure." Gannicus watches hungrily as he coats himself thickly. He didn't pay attention earlier but looking now he sees that Crixus was rather large. Perhaps not as long as Gannicus himself but noticeably thicker. Of all things his asshole twitches, a thing he thought impossible, when thinking about how much Crixus's  _fingers_ burned. Instead of being wary Gannicus found a rush of excitement fuel him. 

"I worry only of your delay. I do not wager we have much more time alone, do you?" He challenges not liking the way his heart skips when Crixus's eyes twinkle in amusement. The Gaul nods with a small smile.

"I mentioned to Dominus that I wished to talk to you at length about your departure." Gannicus tilts his head feeling his cock loosing interest. Crixus notices and settles on his knees in between Gannicus's thighs, "He has asked me to convince you to stay." They both snort at that, Gannicus spreading his legs farther without paying attention to it. 

"The man has a better chance of becoming a Gladiator himself." Crixus laughs a low and throaty sound that goes straight to Gannicus's dick. 

"Truer words have never been uttered." Crixus's expression changes to serious as he lines himself up correctly. "There is not stopping this time Champion." He informs rubbing circles on Gannicus's thigh. The Celt licks his lips breathing heavily,

"Good. Time to see if your bite is worse than your bark you mad dog." Crixus rolls his eyes before pushing forward. "Fuck the gods!" Gannicus yelps being breached. His head falls back a low moan caught in his throat as his hips arch upwards. He was right. Crixus was huge, and the pain was blinding. Yet it felt so strangely good that he couldn't get enough. He wanted Crixus to to stay still, but he wanted him to move. Gannicus makes a fervent noise quietly when Crixus bottoms out. For the first time in his life he felt complete. A wave of fear hits him causing him to soften.

"That won't do." Crixus murmurs. Without warning he thrusts himself deep into Gannicus earning a shout. In his surprise Gannicus wraps his arms around Crixus's torso gripping tightly. He dips his head to suckle at Gannicus nipples jerking his hips quickly. 

Gannicus was fighting to keep silent. This entire experience was filled with things he usually didn't do or like. Instead of being focused and silent he was loud, almost screaming. His cock was back to being fully erect in no time, those bundle of nerves of his being attacked mercilessly. He couldn't think, as soon as a thought began forming it faded out into an echo of encouragement. His hands trailed down and gripped the tautness of Crixus's buttocks tugging insistently. 

"Crixus damn you," He growls when instead of doing what Gannicus wished the stupid man slowed down,

"Something you wish for?" Crixus mouths down the side of his neck. He never stopped but he was still going at an agonizing pace. 

"I have seen you fight, so I  _know_ you are faster than this! If you do not pick up speed- gods fuck it!" He screams when Crixus  **finally** manages to do what he was asking. Their skin was slapping together obnoxiously, the oil causing some obscene squelching noises that served only to have Gannicus wrapping his thighs around Crixus's waist. The two of them were making more noise than they should. More than was safe; but neither could stop themselves. Gannicus unabashedly put both hands into his hair yanking and pulling the short brown strands meeting his thrusts greedily. 

"So  _eager_ for my cock aren't you Celt?" Crixus preens draping a large arm across Gannicus's lower belly to keep him stilled as he leans back, the head of his cock barely staying inside the blond. Gannicus presses his heels into Crixus's lower back attempting to pull him back. "Tell me Champion. Tell me how badly you ache for me." Gannicus bites his lip. He didn't want to beg, didn't want to admit out loud what he was feeling. What he wanted. Crixus shifts to remove himself completely and Gannicus is over come with a panic;

"Crixus,  _please_! Place cock in ass and fill me to completion. I can not take anymore." Gannicus begs a broken sob escaping his lips. Crixus places their foreheads together for a flash of a second before he slams back into him. "FUCK!" He screams at the top of his lungs burying his face into Crixus's shoulder. 

Crixus wraps an arm around Gannicus holding him close using his free hand to fist Gannicus's cock hurriedly. Their breathing was labored as Crixus's hips began to stutter. Gannicus couldn't help but smile when he felt his balls tightening once more, punished enough for one night he was more than exited for this to come to a climax. Crixus had a vein straining in his neck sweat trickling down his back as he raced the Celt. Gannicus pulls himself up without thought his lips finding Crixus's with a desperate moan as he was pushed over the edge. The second the hot liquid hit Crixus's chest he stilled, clutching Gannicus to him both of them lost in the kiss as they slowly came down. 

Gannicus hums slipping his tongue into Crixus's mouth, finding it ironic how inexperienced the Gaul's technique was here versus anywhere else. He tasted of wine and that gods awful pain relief the medicus makes. Quickly their mouths became less intense and wild, changing instead to lazy and sated. Gannicus nibbles his lower lip while Crixus pulls himself out. Gannicus hates that he  _likes_ the way he feels Crixus's release seeping out of him. He shivers in sensitivity watching amused as Crixus pants staring down in shock. 

 "Damn." He sighs rolling so he was half propped against the wall and half laying on Gannicus. The Celt chuckles at the understatement.  

"Agreed." They spend a few heartbeats regaining their breath in silence. Gannicus stretches testing out any soreness. There was going to be some discomfort on the morrow he was sure. But other than that he felt rather...peaceful. 

"I don't suppose that was enough to convince you to stay?" Crixus asks in a small voice tracing the outline of Gannicus's bicep ideal. Gannicus watches his finger distractedly.

"No. Apologies." He says slowly thinking as he talks. "There are too many...memories in the walls of this accursed house." Crixus frowns sitting up and dressing. 

"I see. I understand, whatever happened between you and Doctore's wife must still be painful." Gannicus blanches at the words, looking disbelieving at him.

"H-how, what?" 

"Do not take me for a fool like the rest of the Brotherhood. Oenomaus trusts you too much to realize the change in you was due to his wife and not his promotion."  Gannicus was quickly recognizing anger and resentment coming from his lover. 

"Crixus, it is not personal. I'm surprised to find I enjoyed our coupling as much as I did." Crixus snorts. 

"Could have been a goat would not have made a difference to you. Either way, happy to be of service Champion. Sleep well." Gannicus sits up reaching for him but it was too late, Crixus was already shutting the door behind him. Gannicus curses laying back scratching his chest, the evidence of what just happened drying on his skin. He couldn't leave tomorrow with Crixus hating his guts and believing so little in himself...but he couldn't stay another day. 

Gannicus cleans himself up with a slight wince. Everything was sensitive. His face burned with how he acted. But the guilt churning in his stomach was more on how he made Crixus feel. Sighing he fiddles with his necklace trying to decide what he should do. He blinks a few times before looking down. Well...it won't be the last thing he owns but it would be the first thing Crixus did. Sighing he decides to deal with this all in the morning. 


	2. Like a Cunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus has been conflicted with Naevia and his feelings for her. Barca has been making fun of his hatred, (NOT obsession) over the piece of shit Thracian. Bastard was losing his mind in the pits. More dead than living. Something he was tempted to see for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my friend LOVED the last chapter and I've forbidden her to read any Spartacus fan fiction except my own that way she doesn't get any spoilers like she did with The Walking Dead. But apparantly she's dying and she ships Crixus and Spartacus so here we are and adding a chapter was easier than making a loner fic sorry not sorry. I hope you enjoy! Your comments and Kudos are always welcome and appreciated!

Crixus nods to the Medicus ignoring the quizzical look. Ass did not need to know why he was there. Just mild curiosity, and fuck all what Barca said. Crixus huffs seeing the mad dog slumped on the table. A tiny man really. He supposes the shits in the pit weren't good at fighting if this mongrel bests them. The Beast of Carthage tells tale that he is to be rejoining the Gladiators when he was able. A bit of rage flows through him at the thought. The shit eater did not deserve it. No matter whom he bested in the test. Crixus scowls squatting next to the table studying his wounds. A blackened eye, a few cuts, last he saw a red ring in his eye. Nothing major. Only the gods know the mental damage. The other morn he had over heard the blond fuck; Varro, press concern with the Medicus that the Thracian was talking to himself. A clear sign of madness. 

"Sura!" Spartacus shouts sitting up in a panic. Crixus leans back blinking in surprise at the sudden wake. The smaller man was taking deep gulps of air eyes flying around as if unaware of his location. "Sura?" He asks in a whimper. Crixus rolls his eyes sighing heavily as he moves to sit on the table across from him.

"You have a one track mind you piss ant." He comments nonchalantly. Spartacus's eyes were still wild even as his breathing calms a little. 

"I-I have to find her. My wife. Before...before the rains come." Crixus watches him wring his hands together around that damned bit of cloth as if it was his life blood. He chews his cheek looking the man up and down wondering if he would ever love a woman as completely as Spartacus did. To the point of madness. The image of Naevia swims into his mind making him frown. Perhaps it was possible. But he doubts it was something he wanted to do. Being Champion was all that had mattered for so long. Crixus fiddles with his necklace in thought. "Why? What purpose do you have for being here? To mock? Torment?" Spartacus barks closing his eyes. 

"Speak plainly Thracian. Keep mind in the present, even if heart and soul wander elsewhere." He scoffs snapping his fingers in Spartacus's face. His eyes open slowly looking at the Gaul as if only just now seeing him.

"Crixus? What possesses you to haunt me with your presence?" Crixus chuckles at the bewilderment in his voice. Oddly enough a question he was just asking himself. He looks over his shoulder at the Medicus,

"Leave us you simple fuck." The man rolls his eyes walking out the door. Crixus swallows his doubts turning back to Spartacus. "What makes you think I am  _truly_ here?" Spartacus's eyes widen and he looks down at his hands.

"Another vision from the gods....what message do they bring tonight?" He asks out loud not looking back up. Crixus almost laughs at the absurdity of the question. But he was one to take advantage of another's weakness. It was what they were taught to do after all. Look for it, exploit it; fuck it. 

"Their message, Thracian;" He whispers pushing off the table to sit on his knees in between Spartacus', "Is for you to take it." Spartacus looks up confused, "Like a cunt." Spartacus tries to process what was happening, but his mind was so muddled. The events of tonight, Sura's warning. Plus whatever was in that gods awful concoction that the Medicus forced down his throat. He tries to focus on what Crixus was saying but still wasn't even sure if the man was really there.

Then he was pushing him down, crawling up the length of him, Crixus's cock hardening quickly at the aspect of a warm tight hole. He was nipping and mouthing his way up Spartacus's chest to the side of his neck careless of the irony taste of blood that lingered. Spartacus gasps tilting his head for Crixus to have better access. The Gaul smirks sucking a bruise in the tender flesh where it meets his shoulder. A spot that had always been sensitive to him. As if his mind needed further reason to be clouded and unfocused. Spartacus makes a complacent noise his own cock thickening at the Gaul's touch. It had already been so long since someone had touched him, and even longer since it was another man. 

Crixus was amazed at how responsive the Thracian was. The smaller hips rolled upwards pushing their groins together. Crixus growls in warning reaching down and removing both their clothing. Spartacus was moaning running his finger nails up and down the Champion's back. The thought of Lucretia has him pulling and pushing until the Thracian was bent over the table on his knees unable to scratch him. 

"Crixus, I-" He makes a face of contempt as he wraps a hand around Spartacus's throat. Using  _just_ enough pressure to stay his voice. 

"Hold tongue, or find my cock between your lips." Spartacus keens pushing back spreading his legs. Crixus raises an eyebrow in slight surprise. "The dog likes to be treated as a cunt does he?" A whine was his response. Crixus slides a finger between the taught cheeks while his cock was twitching in anticipation. It had been many months since he last had a male lover. The necklace he wore burned as if reminding him of that fateful night. 

"P-please." He begs voice strained against the Gaul's tightening grip. Crixus spins him around not releasing his throat forcing him onto his knees. Spartacus feels his whole body start shaking. If the gods wished this, then he must truly be done with the pits. How he was to get this to happen when he was awake? The gods often ask impossible tasks

"Then wet me Thracian. Suck the cock you desperatly want." The night was full of surprises it would seem, as Spartacus parts lips and eagerly swallows Crixus. He hums biting his tongue to stop any other noise. His hand shifting to hold Spartacus by the shoulder. Lucretia rarely had him this way, and it was something he enjoyed in the highest regards. Spartacus makes a noise of delight as he works his tongue devilishly to lap at Crixus's leaking head. Crixus closes his eyes for a moment letting himself be washed up in the sensations for a moment. He couldn't help himself to milk his cock in the Thracian's mouth. It was when Spartacus was gagging with the force of his thrusts that the Gaul pulls back,

"Did you not feel pleasure?" Spartacus asks sounding concerned. Crixus snorts, the dog was more bitch than man right now. Not even a shadow of the dominate problematic recruit that tried to bare his teeth at him. 

"You did well, but it is time for this to come to a head." Spartacus's eyes widen hopefully scrambling to re-bend himself over the table. Crixus doesn't move in shock at the action. Now  _this_ was something highly unexpected. If the two of them were still insane on the morrow he might have to explore this further. Instead he scoffs softly boldly inserting a finger inside Spartacus's slightly puckered hole. If it wouldn't raise suspicions he would think to ask Barca about that later. As such he content himself with the mewling sounds the Thracian was spouting. Unlike a previous partner of his, Spartacus was easily made to beg. A second digit had him writhing fucking backwards on Crixus's fingers, his knuckles going white with how hard he was gripping the edge of the wood. 

"Crixus, please! I can not last, please I beg of you." Crixus lets out a sharp bark of a laugh at that. Spartacus was glad this was a dream. If this was reality then he would be humiliated at how he was acting. But like most of his dreams, it felt so real. His nerves were on fire, burning for Crixus's touch.

"Look how easily you ache for me you mad cunt." He scissors his fingers, cock leaking at the noises Spartacus makes while being stretched. Crixus spits at the opened hole as he removes his digits switching to hold Spartacus down a large arm sitting on his lower back. He grunts at the lack of effort it takes to push past the outer ring of muscles. "This is not your first time being taken by a man is it little rabbit?"  Spartacus shakes his head, panting with effort his ass bouncing lightly against Crixus's hips as he bottoms out.

"Move, gods please Crixus." He pleads moving to fist his own cock. Crixus scoffs again grabbing his hands and pulling both hands behind his back. Spartacus wails quietly feeling a familiar heat quickly pooling. His cock was pulsing and if the stupid Gaul didn't hurry up he was going to lose it. Dream or no dream he would have trouble looking the man in the eye.

"I can hold both your wrists in one of my own, that's pathetic rabbit." Spartacus was shaking with the attempt to stay level with just his core strength. The Gaul rolls his eyes giving one hard thrust. Spartacus exclaims something Crixus doesn't understand as he falls thumping his head against the table hard enough to re-open a cut above his eye. Crixus leans down pinning the smaller man underneath him. "Do not think yourself in charge here you stupid fuck. Take what you get and be honored for the privilege." Spartacus nods dumbly mouth slack open. 

He wasted no time after that. Knowing when to hurry, Crixus starts snapping his hips in a bruising pace. Spartacus tucks his knees into his chest on the table the shift allowing Crixus deeper access. The Gaul stills, brushing against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He watches, pleased to see the Thracian writhing. His cock ached wishing to continue ramming into Spartacus with purpose. But he prolongs it. Suddenly, the muscles around him tighten, and he notices Spartacus biting his lip hard enough to cause blood. The little man shudders, and twitches. 

"Gods fuck." He whispers shakily. Crixus blinks. He pulls out to turn Spartacus around looking at his softening cock.

"You came? With so little effort." Spartacus swallows, blushing darkly. Asshole even in his head. The gods were truly cruel. Crixus laughs quietly shaking his head. "In that case, you're in for a helluva time rabbit." Spartacus tilts his head, but before he could ask what Crixus meant, he was being wrestled down onto the table. He hisses as his cuts come into contact with the streaks of his release. The blood trailing down his back in a way that tingled.

Crixus made quick work of manuvering the wounded man to his desires. One leg was tossed carelessly over the Gail's shoulder, a large arm wrapped around the thigh able to fist the spent cock. His other hand holds both of Spartacus's above his head, and a knee keeping the leg not in the air spread making it all the easier to force his cock back inside him.

"Fuck!" Spartacus cries straining against Crixus. He raises an eyebrow at the muscles contracting around him. Again something to ask Barca when able to not arouse suspicion. 

"Quiet you mad fuck, if we are discovered it will be the death of us both." He hisses leaning down to suckle one of Spartacus's nipples. Spartacus jolts at the sensation, trying to get away from the torturous mouth. Everything was overly sensitive. Crixus was larger than the last male lover he had. The burn was something he craved and hadn't remember how much so until now. If Crixus did not let go he wasn't going to last any longer. His eyes widen at the twisting motion the smaller man makes at his touch. Crixus hums rocking his hips flicking his tongue. Spartacus tosses his head back and forth much to his amusement, then he turns his head biting his own forearm. Crixus sucks curiously, when something hot and sticky hits his chest spilling over onto his fingers. He sits up never stopping with the way he thrusts looking at his stomach. 

"Fuuuuuuuck" Spartacus whimpers at the pleasure-pain sensation. Crixus blinks slightly impressed. His ego more so,

"Had enough Thracian?" The question was supposed to be mocking and yet Crixus finds that he couldn't bring himself to stop unless Spartacus was completely finished. 

Instead of answering Spartacus lowers the leg on Crixus's shoulder down to his waist yanking him closer. He might be reacting like a woman, but if this was the gods wish then he was going to hold out as long as he could. Even if it kills him.  The Gaul smirks moving to look at his hand then at Spartacus. His smirk turning predatory as Crixus taps his finger tips on Spartacus's lips. The second they opened Crixus shoved two fingers in, his tongue curling as he cleaned his own cum off them. Crixus curses under his breath his balls tightening. The heat was pooling quickly and he was racing it, wanted to send Spartacus over the edge once more before he follows. 

He was moaning and panting around his full mouth as Crixus's hips start to stutter. Watching through hooded eyes the Gaul coming undone was one of the most exotic things he has ever seen, the sight went straight to Spartacus's cock. Crixus releases his wrists when he feels Spartacus start to bite him, moving to pinch and twist the nipple he hadn't found with his mouth. Spartacus starts screaming, much too loudly. Crixus snarls moving to cover his lips with his own muffling the noise. Spartacus clutches the sides of Crixus's face rocking up against him his third orgasm coating both their chests. Crixus dominates his mouth spilling into Spartacus with a low groan of satisfaction. 

The two pull apart enough to breathe not daring to move as they try to regain their breath. Crixus shivers pulling out making Spartacus gasp and his leg fall to the side. Instead of rolling away from him or letting him move off of him, Spartacus wraps his arms around Crixus's torso holding him close, burying his face into Crixus's neck. The Gaul was shocked at the affection. It was something he didn't think the Thracian was capable of. Not with him at least. Crixus tucks his head surprised on how he enjoys the comfort he finds in this action. A distant thud brings him back to his senses. He curses yanking himself away dressing quickly and walking out without looking back. 

Spartacus sits up blinking in confusion. Crixus was gone faster than he had appeared. He felt a small sting of rejection and he wasn't sure why. Medicus wanders in shaking his head in slight disgust. Spartacus blushes realizing he was naked. Was it all just a dream? It doesn't feel that way...but how else was he to explain it? Spartacus sighs letting the Medicus address his wounds, in a silent debate with himself. He decides to worry about it  _after_ he's found Sura. Let the Gaul believe that he doesn't know what happened. Even if he himself isn't one-hundred percent sure. 

 

Crixus storms to the baths ready to wash himself clean before he remembers the drought. Cursing he reaches for the strigil and at the very least scrapping the evidence of their coupling off his front. Tomorrow was going to be hell if Spartacus was in his head for even a  _second_ of any of that. Sighing Crixus makes his way to his cell and was halfway inside when he heard laughing. Worriedly he turns to see Barca leaning against his own cell door. 

"My sources say Domina did not summon you tonight." He remarks grinning widely. Crixus feels a flush creep across his skin. 

"And? Is there a purpose to your words?" Barca shrugs lightly as he stretches.

"Depends. Were you in the Medicus this entire time? Or perhaps you've found more shattered wine jars to throw over the cliffs?" Crixus closes his eyes. Damned Beast of Carthage. 

"You should count yourself lucky." He grunts folding his arm and giving Barca a scowl.

"And why is that little man?" The brotherly tone of voice was not missed. Crixus smiles softly,

"Because I count you as dearest friend, and do not make attempt on your life for speaking to me in such a manner." Barca laughs loudly throwing his head back. Crixus waves him off and maneuvers to find sleep. Something tells him the morning was going to bring bad news. 


	3. Teach Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell do Barca and Crixus talk about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of adding the chapter I want and causing spoilers I decided to do this instead to tide my friend and myself over.

Crixus fiddles with his hair worriedly. It's never been this short before. With a noise of discontent he rubs his face where his stubble used to be. Clean shaven too, his entire world was changing. And tomorrow they were to step foot in the new arena. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was ecstatic obviously. The Arena. Where he could show his prowess and impress all of Capua and his fellow Gladiators; maybe even best Gannicus and become Champion. The thought of becoming so renowned had his pulse quicken; yet the thought of the Celt dying made him feel hollow. If the man was still leaving it wouldn't cause an issue. Some how Batiatus and a few others made it so Gannicus wouldn't be sold in the morning and now he doesn't know what to do with himself or these strange new feelings.

"Well look at that. There's a face under all that fur." A mocking voice draws his attention. Crixus whirls around to see the Beast of Carthage lounging in the door way holding his bandaged side. 

"Barca. How's the wound?" Barca scoffs away his concern limping over.

"Better than yours." Crixus smiles ruefully.

"Is the new look really so bad?" Barca rolls his eyes placing a hand on his shoulder. Crixus's heart sores, it was a mark of how much he impressed the older man to be shown this much respect. 

"Your new look suits you well enough for whatever it is the Domina has planned for you, Brother." Crixus grimaces thinking of Lucretia. The woman was borderline insane. Barca chuckles watching him. "I will not press on that. But; that was not the wound I was talking about." The Gaul frowns confused. He wasn't injured. "The wounded heart you wear on your sleeve you sad fuck." Barca laughs shoving Crixus a little. His eyes widen as he wrings out the cloth he was washing himself with.

"Heart? We are Gladiators. We have no heart." Barca crosses his arms looking doubtful.

"So Auctus was just a distraction for me?" Crixus grimaces turning away embarrassed.

"Apologies. I meant no offense." Barca nods sitting down with a groan for his effort. Crixus nervously sits next to him. "Who do you think I keep my affections for?" He asks worriedly. The Beast of Carthage snorts untying his bandages. 

"I do not need to think. Any fool who pays attention long enough can see it." He states flatly, "You pine after the Champion like a bitch in heat." Crixus blushes deeply opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Do not try and deny it little man," Barca teases with a grin, "I once set sights to the Celt myself. There is no lie that he is of a form." Crixus fiddles with the cloth for a moment before sighing tossing it down.

"If  _you_ were unable to win his affections after being in the Brotherhood with him for so long, then I have no chance." Barca watches Crixus silently for a moment as the Gaul interlocks his fingers making a popping noise with his knuckles. 

"You know...I didn't try." He admits slowly setting the soiled bandages to the side. Crixus slowly looks at him raising an eyebrow. Barca smiles softly starting to clean his wound. "Shortly before I came here, another did make attempt." Crixus shifts a little.

"What happened to the man?" He asks trying to sound disinterested. 

"Gannicus cut off his cock." Barca answers holding back a laugh. Crixus pales staring at him. He opens his mouth to speak, "No I do not jest you cock sucker." Crixus blushes again turning away. He tilts his head at him.

"Perhaps, I should avoid him and the subject of my desires." 

"Have you ever sucked a cock before Crixus?" Barca nearly laughs at the shade of red the smaller man turns. He was shifting in his seat unable to look his peer in the eye. 

"No. I have not." He mutters to the ground. Barca nods finishing his task and re-dressing the cut. The two sit in silence for a while, Crixus's mind reeling as his imagination goes rampant. Barca silently debating with himself. He watches Crixus wrap his towel around his hips as he stands, with mild interest. Maybe once Gannicus was gone he would have a go at the Gaul. He wasn't lying, the new look  _did_ suit him. But he supposes that would all depend on how much he held the Champion in esteem.  Crixus sighs deeply then glances at Barca, "Do I look so weak? So submissive?" Barca barks out a laugh slapping his back standing next to him.

"Looks have nothing to do with it. Auctus was truly skilled with his mouth occupied by my cock," Crixus's brows furrow together eyes wide in shock,

"Auctus was...you were not the dominate?" Barca laughs loud enough to echo. Crixus smiles a little at the sound. 

"It is possible in a relationship to be both you cunt." He smacks Crixus on the shoulder wincing at the sharp pain in his side. Laughing too much hurt. Crixus gives a worried glance at the wound but doesn't press the issue. He has questions after all.

"The Beast of Carthage has sucked cock." His voice was quiet and filled with amazement. "Yet...I do not understand." Barca raises an eyebrow.

"Set pondering mind at ease, any and all concerns you have, will be answered and reassured if you but ask." Crixus nods chewing his cheek staring at the wall lost in thought.

"Why, or more rather, how is a man to find pleasure with a cock in ass?" He wonders out loud deciding the big questions should be answered first. Barca grins and motions for him to follow, the two make their way to the dining benches before he speaks.

"Multiple reasons. The feeling of being filled is one that can not be recreated. The pleasure you're giving your partner if that fuels you. There is a burning sensation with those under prepared that..." Barca trails off trying to think of the words to describe it, "well, to  _some_ it is intoxicating." Crixus makes a face. Burning usually means pain, or discomfort. 

"I'll take your word for it." He mumbles trying to figure out how this makes his situation any easier. 

"There is something else." Barca whispers glancing at a guard. Crixus leans in confused.

"Something else?" Surely he was mistaken. Barca nods a wicked grin on his face. 

"In every male, from every corner of the earth, of every height, weight, slave or not, there is a nub of nerves." Crixus frowns looking at Barca like he has three heads, 

"Nerves." He echos dumbly. Barca winks at him reaching into the folds of his loin cloth.

"After the Primus tomorrow go to him and ask him if he'd like you to show him unimaginable pleasure. Pleasure like only you can provide him." Crixus only catches the small vial that Barca throws at him. The taller of the two smirks watching him uncork it with inspection. 

"Oil?" Barca wonders if the little man was ever tired of feeling like a moron. 

"If you do not prep, if they are not relaxed it will hurt. I'm not sure how your tastes run in the bed but I do not wish pain upon my lovers." Crixus re-seals the vial nodding putting it into his own clothing. 

"I see....how does one prep their lover in that manner?"

The two of the spent the next couple of hours talking about first times. Crixus asked a lot of questions, more about Gannicus than anything. Barca finds he loves making the Gaul blush. It was easy enough to do. The man barely knew cunt let alone cock. He pressed about what Lucretia wished him clean shaven for, but not wanting Dominus to find out he simply put that it was a private affair. 

"How should I approach him?" Was his final question of the night.

"I can not tell you. It is up to you. But rest now. You fight in the opening games in the morrow." The two stand and shake hands with a shared smile. 

"Gratitude."


	4. Riding the Grief out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sura's death, Spartacus was devastated. Varro reassures him that he will live through this. With a lack of sleep he ends up visiting the Gaul in the medicus. Spartacus was just desperate to feel SOMETHING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait with this one, but my friend HAD to get through the episode I needed her to. I mean, otherwise this would have been one HELLUVA spoiler. Couldn't do that. Hince the Barca Chapter. Which I'm glad you guys enjoyed. This is proabably going to be a short chapter. Your comments and Kudos are always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this too!

Varro watches him walk out of the baths with a sad smile. Spartacus knew he was making his friend worry but he couldn't bring himself to care. His heart constricts and he fears he might vomit. His feet carry him through the maze like corridors of the Ludus without him thinking. All he could see was Sura. Laying dead in his arms. Perhaps if he had fought harder in the pits. If he had defeated Theockles sooner? Or even defeated the Gaul when he first found himself in the arena. The gods warned him...before the rains. Spartacus feels his lower lip tremble as he finds his way into the Medicus. His vision was blurry with tears but he could still make out the resting figure on the table. A table he was all too familiar with. Spartacus blinks numbly looking the wounded man up and down wondering how this came to be their fate. What had he done?

 _'My wife thinks you're cursed by the gods....I'm inclined to agree'_  

Batiatus's voice rings in his head and he chuckles to himself, feeling rather mad. 

"You'll find no argument here," He whispers his answer staring at the Gaul. If it was a dream from the gods then he shouldn't ignore it. But if it wasn't then he was surely going to die upon discovery. 

 _If you're discovered_. He thinks to himself. Quickly he looks around noting that the Medicus was out tending to some minor wounds of other Gladiators from training. 

"Spartacus." Varro's voice has him jumping.

"You startled me." He explains taking a calming breath. Varro makes a face looking over his shoulder. 

"What are you planning now? Whatever it is, it can wait. Give yourself some time. I can't imagine-"

"No you can't. I'm not going to do anything to harm anyone if that's what you're worried about." He snaps folding his arms. Varro sighs reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. Spartacus smiles softly. "Apologies. I know you mean no harm it's just..." They stare at each other for a moment each waiting on the other to say something. Something must have flickered in the smaller man's gaze because the blond was sighing, resigned as his shoulder's sag.

"What do you need me to do?" Spartacus claps him on the shoulder with affection. 

"You truly are a wonderful friend. I do not deserve you." Varro snorts with a grin.

"I know you do not, you crazy buffoon. Now tell me what you need of me or see my back in answer." Spartacus beams at him even as his cheeks turn a ridiculous shade of red.

 

 

The crowds roared his name. Chanting over and over again. The sound had his blood pounding and his cock hardening. That was strange. It happened from time to time after facing a difficult opponent. Or with the promise of having Lucretia after wards. But when he looks to the pulvinus all that sat there was Naveia and Spartacus.  He lowers his sword looking around at the crowd. Suddenly it was raining, and the roar of the crowd was for  _Spartacus_. But the crowd sounded like his own voice. Suddenly his sword and armor was gone. He was standing bare assed in the middle of the Arena. Despite hearing his rival's name, he was painfully hard. It hurt to breathe. Panicked he looks up and Spartacus was standing in front of him, smirking that self satisfied smirk of his. Crixus shakes his head backing away a little. The scene changes when his back hits the wall. They were in Gannicus's cell. Crixus was back to being unshaven with the Thracian on his knees in front of him. He was thrusting gently into the willing mouth slightly horrified. Not here, not in this place. The wall behind him turns to skin and he didn't have to turn around to know who was behind him stroking a questioning finger over his ignored entrance. Hot breath spoke in his ear,

"Live, and show me the Undefeated Gaul." Except the voice was wrong. It wasn't the Celt. Not exactly. Like two people talking at once. "Crixus," It was less Celt this time. He felt himself waking, as his name was chanted again, this time quietly. In a harsh whispers of need. Crixus gives a gargled gasps as his cock was pulled into a slightly familiar tight heat. His eyes fly open wide confused on what he was seeing. 

Spartacus, straddling him, lowering himself onto Crixus head tilted back murmuring under his breath. Crixus convulses uncontrollably, the pain in his chest and back at odds with the pleasure coming from between his legs. The action shoved Spartacus down as his hips jerked up making him bottom out. Spartacus arches backwards with a low hum locking his knees on either side of Crixus. Enough pressure to keep himself tethered but not enough to re-open his wounds.

"CrixusCrixusCrixusCrixus," Spartacus whimpers as he starts impaling himself on Crixus repeatedly strong thighs working to hold his balance, matched by his hands on Crixus's ankles. The Gaul moans helpless in this. 

"Spa-Spartacus? Am I -oh gods- what are you- why? Why now, why here?" He pants out his half baked questions gaining a bark of a laugh from the Thracian.

"What makes you think I am  _truly_ here?" He echos Crixus's own words back at him mockingly. Crixus feels a smile tugging at his lips, his hands managing to find their way to Spartacus's hips. 

Quickly, speech was lost to the both of them as Spartacus focuses on his task. It took everything he had in him to prolong his release. It was one thing to let himself be overcome by the size of his partner when Crixus was able to finish himself, but his wounds haven't even healed and probably shouldn't be doing something this physical. Spartacus wishes he could find it in him to care. But the way he had angled Crixus kept being slammed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and he was losing focus on much else. He found it endearing the way Crixus's hand shook, one reaching up. He was leaking when Crixus rolled a nipple in between his thumb and index finger, but cries out softly at the brief contact. Obviously the pebbled flesh was not his goal. Either the way he was leaning was farther than he thought, or the Gaul was more drugged and injured than was to believe; his hand falls short, resting his finger tips on Spartacus's pulse. Swallowing hard he shifts with a hitch in his breath and takes two fingers into his mouth. He was rewarded with a strained moan. 

"Keep that up and you will find this cut short." Crixus manages to growl out a warning. Spartacus whimpers doing what he could to speed up his pace, talking around the digits.

"I would have it so," No need to even  _try_ to admit that his desperation to find Sura was spurred by this  **craving** he had aquired for the Gaul. Something he was running from normally. Yet whether it was a dream, vision from the gods, or reality; last time was the first time he had felt at peace since meeting  _Glaber_. Spartacus trails his hands up and uses both to ancher himself, gripping Crixus's arm adding a satisfying twist to his thrusts.  _This_ was a peace he was desperate for at the moment.

"Gods fuck it." Crixus winces when his hips buck more than his wounds were agreeable with. The added friction has Spartacus shouting. "You stupid fuck." He whispers using the fingers in the Thracian's mouth to drag him down swallowing the noise with his lips. Spartacus whimpers into Crixus's mouth hands lacing into Crixus's hair. 

The pair of them struggled to breathe, not ready to part far enough away for it, but having to otherwise risk death. Spartacus was vaguely aware that their skin was slapping together obnoxiously and he was sure to catch shit from Varro later, but he could  _feel_ Crixus's cock twitching inside of him. He was close, perhaps not as close as Spartacus but still. It fueled him, he wished he knew something that would drive the Gaul mad enough to fall over the edge. As it was, he was back to mindlessly chanting his name.

"Crixus, ah fuck,  _Crixus_." The Gaul makes a noise that catches Spartacus's attention. "If we were far enough away from prying ears," He whispers into Crixus's ear smiling at the arch of the man's neck, "I would  _scream_ your names to the heavens." Crixus makes a 'hnng' noise, "Oh yes, Champion. The gods will know your name from my voice. There isn't a crowd large enough to shout it louder than I." 

It didn't take too much more for Spartacus to bury his face into Crixus's neck the heat of the Gaul's seed filling him with an audible groan from him. Spartacus pants heavily as he stops his hips spurting between the two of them. He notices his arms shaking with the effort not to collapse ontop of his partner. Odd, he wonders when he began to give a shit about the Gaul's well being or comfort. 

"You mad cunt. I had heard tale-" Spartacus was off him before he could blink.

"Do not speak of her. And do not speak of this. Else you find yourself like Ashur." He threatens fixing his towel and storming out. Crixus blinks shaking his head when the Medicus walks in tsking and tuttering away like a mother hen. Crixus snorts at the man. Truly, why this simple fuck was more than caring was beyond him. 

 

 

Varro tries to hide his amusement as he and Spartacus walk towards their cells. The smaller was refusing to look at him rubbing the evidence of his coupling into his chest, rather than making his way back to the baths were surely others still loitered. It wasn't until they were at the benches does Varro actually speak.

"So," Spartacus flinches at the laugher there, "did you find what you were looking for?" Spartacus gives out a shaky laugh.

"I believe I have found a vice that can distract me from thoughts of Su-" He takes a deep breath, tears springing to his eyes, "thoughts of my wife." Varro nods scratching the back of his head. 

"Well, instead of laying with filth and staining one's self..." Varro trails off a little, until Spartacus looks up at him, "for the favor of friends, I um..." Spartacus looks him up and down for a moment,

"Are you offering distractions?" Varro's cheeks stain pink making Spartacus smile for the first time since losing Sura a few days ago. He watches his friend stutter and trip over words for a moment feeling his heart warm at his treasured friend. "Because the change would be most welcome." Varro looks at him stunned, "I do not wish to continue smelling of shit, and would have proper distraction from a real man." He comments already feeling his cock re-harden underneath his subligaculum.


	5. Innocence of the Gaul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barca helps Crixus to understand how certain things with the male body work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated, but last chapter kind of ended in a different way then I imagined and I liked it better so I had to roll with it, and of course we were watching episodes 8-10 of Blood and Sand and well now here I am and I just can't wait to write more. I've gotten some ideas that will be able to keep spoilers away. Your comments and kudos are always welcomed and appreciated. I hope you enjoy! Also this is probably the longest chapter. Sorry not sorry.

Barca watches half amused as Crixus attacks the pulvinous. It was cute how every so often he stopped to make sure the necklace he wore was still in place. Things with the Celt must have gone in his favor if Gannicus was more than willing to part with the damned thing upon his departure. It was only mildly annoying becuase the Gaul did nothing but rant and rave about how he was going to be a better champion than Gannicus, and make the man proud. As if the drunk gave two shits. Poor tiny Crixus was paid off with the trinket like a two bit whore. His eyes catch one of the newer slaves moving to hand Gneaus a new net as the current one rips. His eyes narrow at the bruising on the young man's arm. The way the slender frame curls away from Barca's fellow gladiator. He's heard tale of the man being less than gentle with his lovers, even worse than himself and Actus were....used to be. 

"Pietros." He calls out getting the little man's attention. "Water." He instructs. The  _boy_ , (there was no other word for him) scurries off to do as he was told. Gneaus makes a face at Barca before going back to what he was doing. 

"Here you go, sir." Pietros whispers not looking Barca in the eyes. Perhaps it was his loneliness having been over two months now without Actus and at least a fortnight without his friend Gannicus to keep him company, but his heart softens at the scared little man. 

"Just, Barca." Pietros glances up at him, the setting sun hitting his eyes turning the brown to amber. Barca's breath catches hand closing over the offered cup, brushing finger tips against knuckles. "Ju-just call me..." His voice leaves him as Pietros smiles softly,

"Barca," He whispers up to him. The water was definitely needed as Barca's mouth dries hurriedly. 

"Boy, I require some water." Crixus's gruff orders huff at them breathing slightly labored. Barca scowls at him glad that the idiot was tired. 

"Apologies." Pietros mutters running off. Barca sips his own drink watching the Gaul.

"The Best of Carthage, takes to boys instead of men now does he?" Crixus teases leaning against a support beam. Barca snorts rolling his eyes.

"Just as soon as you start actually  _pleasing_ the Domina with your constant summons." Was his retort just before Pietros returns handing Crixus a cup and running off to do some sort of chore or another for someone else. Barca couldn't help a warm content feeling in his stomach as he watches him work. 

"Still your tongue or find the both of us to the mines; or worse over the cliff." Crixus hisses at him, instantly regretting having told Barca anything. The Beast shrugs, there were worse ways to die. He smirks watching Ashur hobble after Batiatus. Much worse. 

"Don't be jealous. The boy could only be good for my cock." Crixus frowns in thought. Barca tries to hide his laughter. He knows a million more questions have just flown into the Gaul's mind. "Worry not. I'll teach you little man. For now, excuse me." He informs noticing a Guard motioning for him.

 

 

It was sometime later in the city that Barca approaches Batiatus with a request. One he's been considering for some time.

"A what?" The Dominus asks in confusion. Barca glances at Ashur who wasn't even pretending to hid his interest in this conversation. Barca feels heat flush his cheeks.

"I have told the cripple to save up my winnings in order to purchase it myself. I was simply wishing for the permission to do so during this outing." Batiatus looks him up and down in slight disbelief and for a while Barca was afraid he was going to be denied; but Batiatus was full of surprises,

"Very well. Make it quick and take Ashur with you. I shall head back to the villa promptly. Do  _not_ dally. I do not like the idea of being unprotected for long." Barca beams and bows slightly.

"Thank you Dominus." Ashur grimaces following the Beast into a shop down the street. "If you breathe a word of this, know that I will kill you." Barca snips walking into a shop. Ashur sighs deeply with a short nod glancing around. The place was unknown to him. There were strange basins filled with scented oils. 

"Welcome! How may I help you?" Barca glances at Ashur and leans closer to the vendor to talk.

"I'm looking for a certain tool, marble made and larger than an average man." Ashur glances over at them looking slightly disturbed. The vendor smiles with a curt nod. 

"For you and your partner there?" Barca's eyes widen in horror.

"What? I'm insulted that you think that I would sleep with that disgusting Syrian." He says with a snort. Ashur turns around making a face. 

"And the insults keep rolling." He mutters to himself crossing his arms. 

 

 

Crixus was focused on the pulvinous when Dominus and the others walk back in. Ashur seemed to be hobbling faster than normal, a clear indication of Batiatus leaving before him. He scoffs glad to have already dealt with Lucretia. The two of them were a little surprised at themselves; she actually  _enjoyed_ their coupling this time. It seemed Barca's verbal instructions were working to Crixus's benefit after all. Speaking of his Brother in arms, Crixus notices the Beast carrying a bag. Something personal! He doesn't hesitate to make his way across the sands to greet him.

"Barca." His voice was raised just enough to let him know Crixus hadn't missed the sack. It wasn't often that the taller man blushed, but his cheeks were a bright red when he faced the Gaul.

"Crixus. Just the man I didn't want to see." He jokes with a small chuckle. Crixus rolls his eyes and walks with him off to the side away from eavesdroppers. 

"Do not bullshit me, what's that." Always one to get straight to the point when voice was willing. Barca grimaces and shifts a little.

"I am...wary to tell you." Crixus folds his arms causing Barca to sigh defeated. "I purchased it for you...and me." The scrunched look of confusion made Barca twice as nervous. 

"For the pair of us? Is this something we should be discussing in your cell?" Crixus asks looking between the bag and his friend. Barca sighs and nods looking a little relieved. Crixus nods and motions him to lead. On the sands Onemaous frowns watching the two of them disappear. Whatever the pair was up to he hopes it at least has something to do to help young Pietros. He had noticed Barca's interest in the boy earlier. The Beast of Carthage would be better suited with him than Gnaeus in his opinion.

Crixus dutifully follows his fellow gladiator through the twisting halls. He has kept his questions to himself and waited patiently. If this was something to make this man embarrassed then he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. However he finds that being knowledgeable in these things made him feel...confident...when it came to Domina. Which was apparently the key to extracting her pleasure. He smiles softly to himself with pride at the memory of today. 

"Do not look so smug you cock eater." Barca snips opening the door for him. Crixus blinks quickly,

"Apologies, I do not-"

"Save it you fuck. In and shut up." He instructs. Crixus shrugs and does as he's told, making his way to sit on the stool Barca has been allowed to own. 

"Very well. Explain yourself." Barca shuts the door fiddling with the draw strings for a moment before retrieving the contents. Crixus's eyes widen staring at it. "What in the Gods names, the fuck is  _that_?" 

In truth, Crixus could obviously tell what it was. It looked to be made of marble. A cock, complete with a set of balls. Fully circumcised, about as round as his fucking forearm, and just as long. The detail was shocking. Even from where Crixus was seated he could see a vein on the under side and a slit was made on the mushroom head. Although hollow it was not. It looked like it was stolen off of a statue or something. 

"It is called a dildo you simple shit." Barca mutters offering it for inspection while looking at the ground. Crixus looks between him and the...thing hesitantly. Carefully he takes it, surprised at how heavy it was. 

"Alright. And I am to assume it is not used as art?" He questions hoping to earn a smile. Barca scowls at him instead. 

"Yes Crixus, I am slowly buying you and myself a statue to piece together at our pleasure." Crixus couldn't help but bark out a laugh. 

"Apologies brother, I just do not yet understand it's purpose for the two of us." Barca watches as the Gaul studies the toy using his fingers to trace it's length, almost admiringly. He swallows. 

"I recall..." He begins slowly hoping not to mess this up, "The day after...Gannicus left." Crixus looks up at him shoulder's straightening and eyes darkening. Nobody was supposed to talk about the Celt. "I had offered my services to you...and you mentioned the only man you wished in your ass was...him..." Crixus gently sets down the dildo to re-cross his arms. Damn.

"Make your meaning clear." Barca sighs at the tight lipped tone in his friend's voice. 

"I was hoping that instead of you just using me as someone to answer your questions that...perhaps we could use this to more accurately teach you." Crixus's eyes widen. 

"You mean to use  **that** on me?" He asks incredulously. Barca winces at his raised voice, 

"Well-"

"How would that even fit?" Crixus asks pointing at it. Barca tilts his head. 

"What?" Crixus scoffs standing up.

"Do you see what you have purchased? It is a horse cock, and would likely never be able to be anything more than torture. Might as well try and shove your fist up there." Barca opens his mouth only to pause. Perhaps he wasn't ready to know. Crixus looks at his face, and realizes. 

"Uh.."

"You're fucking shitting me....there is no way an entire fist can fit up a man's ass and be pleasurable." Barca scratches the back of his head trying not to laugh. Sometimes he forgets how little Crixus  _actually_ knows. 

"Perhaps a demonstration?" He offers knowing that it would calm the Gaul down enough to try one or the other. Crixus lets his arms fall to his sides in shock.

"Y-you wish for me to stick my fist-" Barca bursts out laughing shaking his head.

"No! Fuck the Gods no! You are woefully too inexperienced to do that correctly." Crixus looks both relieved and insulted. "No, I was simple going to suggest you watch me do so to someone else." The Gaul frowns looking confused.

"Who?" Barca opens and closes his mouth a few times not having thought this far. "That boy you were drooling over earlier?" That'll work. Barca shrugs placing his hands on hips.

"Would it make you jealous?" Crixus snorts headed towards the door. 

"Don't let your ego get in the way. Besides, Gnaeus needs to leave him alone, and you deserve a consistent lover. This will eliminate two issues." Barca raises an eyebrow watching him.

"Where are you going?" 

 

 

Pietros was shaking from head to toe as he followed the Champion of Capua down the hall. The man had said he and the Beast of Carthage of all people needed  _his_ assistance! So long as it kept him away from his current..."lover". The man was insatiable, and never cared for Pietros safety or pleasure. He prays to the gods every night and day that another Gladiator would be bought that also liked cock and ass. He eyes Crixus as they approach a door. Perhaps this was what he was needed for? Did Crixus and Barca wish to add a third person to their love making? 

"Do you know why you're here boy?" Barca asks him sitting on the bed in nothing but his subligaculum making Pietros blush. 

"N-no sir, um Barca..." Crixus rolls his eyes shutting the door behind him. 

"We need your assistance, but we also need your silence." Pietros stiffens in fear looking up at Crixus with a curt nod. Gnaeus wants to hurt him, not kill him. Crixus has always looked like someone who wouldn't hesitate to end the boy's miserable life.  

"O-okay. Ye-yes sir." Barca chuckles reaching over smacking Crixus on the shoulder.

"The boy is more afraid of you than the birds." Pietros swallows a lump in his throat glancing around the pigeons. He still wasn't sure the purpose behind them. The Gaul shifts looking slightly contrite. 

"Apologies...Pietros correct?" He asks in a gentler tone. The small man nods up at him taking a deep breath. Barca reaches over and gently pulls Pietros to stand in between his legs inspecting the bruises on his arm.

"Gnaeus did this to you?" Pietros was questioned. He nods again finding his voice has failed him. The gladiators glance at each other, the Champion's mouth drawing into a thin line. "Do you enjoy it?" Without thought Pietros scoffs and snips,

"As much as Batiatus likes drinking piss." Startled at himself he quickly covers his mouth looking at them in horror. Both sets of eyes were wide as they stared at him, mouths slightly agape. Crixus recovers first doubling over with his laughter. Barca shakes his head joining him. 

"The boy has some bite in him! Shame you were not built like the rest of us. Such a spit fire spirit would have done marvelous in the Arena!" The Champion praises leaning against the wall. 

"Perhaps the young one would like to put it to better use in my bed?" Barca suggests running his hands up and down Pietros' arms. A blush darkens his cheeks as he looks at the older man.

"W-wha-? Um, would," He quickly glances at Crixus, "Would th-that be alright?" The gladiators tilt their heads.

"You look to me as if I have say in the matter." The Gaul states eyes narrowing. Barca has a small smile as he looks between the two of them.

"Pietros?" He gains his attention, "Do you believe Crixus and I to be lovers?" Crixus's expression was thunderous while Pietros' eyes widen in horror. Quickly he shakes his head back and forth.

"N-no! A-absolutely not! That would be highly presumptuous! I-I have no thoughts about whom the two of you lie with o-or if it could ever be together." He could feel his embarrassment eating him alive, and prayed the gods strike him down now before he makes this any worse than he already has.  

"Great, so let's get started." Barca exclaims winking at Crixus.

 

Crixus's breathing was labored as he watches Barca stretch Pietros. The Beast already had three fingers in the small man's hole and it didn't look likely to be able to fit more. Noticing the Gaul was distracted Barca leans down taking the slave's sack into his mouth. Pietros cries out twisting first upwards as if to get away before sinking back down with a low moan. Crixus takes a gulp of air placing a heavy foot on one of the crates for the birds. The stool was adequate for sitting, but Barca was firm when he instructed Crixus to stretch himself, as such the Champion was slightly awkward half on the stool and half on a cage legs spread and two fingers up his ass. 

"B-Barca! I-ah fuck- I do not think I can take much more." Pietros whimpers as Barca pushes his smallest finger in. The Gladiator smirks as he licks his way up to Pietros' neck, sucking a mark as he jerks his wrist. 

"Hush little thing, you'll be amazed at what your body can do, when handled properly."  Barca winks at Crixus when he says this. A subtle reminder that his statement matches Crixus's situation as well. Crixus groans not for the first time in his life wishing he hand at least  _one_ more hand. Stretching himself took up one, but the other was being used to support his weight against the wall for his balance. As a result, his cock was standing proud and leaking profusely. He absolutely  **ached** to be touched.

"Th-that is, -unh- not what I meant." Pietros gasps out between mewls. Barca raises an eyebrow at this. 

"Then what-"

"Ah  _GODS FUCK SHIT CUNT!"_ Pietros shouts wrapping his legs around Barca's chest scrambling to clutch at his arm as his orgasm wracks his small body. It shocked Crixus enough to stop, but Barca's eyes simply widen staring at him. Pietros pants as he comes down, slowly releasing his partner a small smile on his face. 

"Pietros...does that...do you act like that every time you're brought to completion?" He asks breathlessly. Crixus doesn't blame him, his heart beat was still pounding against his ribs. Dazed the young man shakes his head,

"I've never reacted so violently before." Crixus curls his fingers eager to find his bundle of nerves with a grimace. 

"Have you ever been made to climax so gently before?" The Gaul questions honestly interested in the answer. Again a shake of the head no. Barca's eyes darken dangerously.

"You are not going back to Gnaeus." Crixus's mouth slacks watching Barca pull his hand back enough to curl it into a fist and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, sinks his fist into Pietros. "You are mine now." He all but growls mouthing his way across Pietros' collar bone. Pietros keens arching towards Barca. 

"Barca" Crixus pants pushing down on his fingers, desperation slowly building. Barca grins reaching over and pulling the marble toy out of the small basin of oil. 

"Get on the bed next to Pietros on your hands and knees" Barca instructs pulling his hand out and coating his cock. Crixus makes a choked noise as he does as he was told. Pietros hooks his leg on Barca's hip to make room for the Gaul, biting his lip as he takes the Beast of Carthage. Barca's breath hitches as he bottoms out squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

"Are you in pain?" Pietros's voice was barely more than a whisper as he stares up at this beautiful man. Barca laughs thrusting once to silence him.

"No you fuck. I'm trying to focus. Doing more than one task at once is difficult when so tightly held." Pietros blushes again turning away. However; he gasps noticing he was face to face with Crixus. 

"Am I that hideous you forgot my presence?" He said it with a grin but Pietros detected genuine hurt. Nervously, after a quick glance at Barca he leans in and carefully presses his lips to Crixus'. 

"You are the farthest thing from hideous. My mind was blown by one god of the Arena and it had difficulties handling the idea of another sharing my bed." Barca thrusts again smiling at the way Pietros shouted. 

" _Your_ bed now is it? I'll be sure to let that fucking cripple Ashur know." He teases tilting himself so that his cock was nestled against the deepest part of Pietros. Crixus smiles ghosting his lips across the slave's. Barca stills himself, seeing the two of them kissing nearly sent him over the edge once. If he wasn't careful it would be his undoing. Pietros whines a little wrapping a hand around Crixus's arm. The Gaul hums using his tongue to gain access into the younger man's mouth. Barca sucks in a harsh breath eyes glued. Not one to forget his purpose however, he moves the toy pressing the well lubricated head between Crixus's cheeks. 

"Oh shit." Crixus murmurs pulling back.

Crixus folds his arms and buries his face in the crook. His throat was tight and his mouth was dry. Not with fear, or pain; much to his surprise it was with desire. He recently saw young Pietros climax without his cock being attended. Crixus treasures the memory of Gannicus coming close to orgasm without being touched. And now, well he very much wished to learn the same. From experience he wanted to feel what others have.

When Barca started easing the dildo past the outer muscles with little resistance, Crixus easily understood most of the appeal. The feeling of being full, that burning that his digits couldn't mimic was practically ecstasy. Insistently he rocks his hips trying to portray that he was ready for more. Barca reaches over running his tongue over the curve of Crixus's ass muttering something the Gaul couldn't hear. Crixus jerks his hips with a strangled cry when Pietros' soft hand leaves his arm to wrap delicate fingers around his cock. 

Barca smiles softly as he furthers the dildo into the Gaul. The way Crixus reacts sets his blood a fire. He uses the molded balls as a handle as he fills Crixus. Carefully moving the toy in and out in an increasingly faster pace. Crixus starts thrusting into Pietros' hand urgently. Barca tilts his head quirking a smile angling the marble slightly higher. The scream tells him he found his mark. As does the slight white puddle between his thighs. 

"That's it you mad fuck, tell me how much you want this." Barca fucks into Pietros with earnest. 

"Barca, shit! Show me how badly you wish for your cock to replace this simple fucking toy." Crixus orders louder than he should. Pietros shudders reaching up a hand on Crixus's and Barca's shoulder each digging his nails in. 

"Mouthy shit," Barca grits out hips stuttering. Crixus curses under his breath gripping the edges of the bed another climax slamming through him. Barca moans spilling into Pietros, hips stilling as does his hand. 

The three of them collapse to the bed with a combined sigh of satisfaction. 

"Lesson....well received...." Crixus whispers.


	6. Friends with Benefits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro and Spartacus discuss, at LENGTH the benefits of helping each other. In and out of the Arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my friend finished Season one and was furious at Varro's death, (Like the rest of us.) She also wasn't happy about Duro's death. (Like the rest of us.) SO I am quickly trying to update at least one chapter before she starts season three to help her out. Spoilers are a difficult thing to avoid! Thank you for your continued patience and support and encouragement. You guys are wonderful and fabulous and I love you all. The comments are wonderful and oh so appreciated as are kudos! Thank you again! I hope you enjoy!

"Jupiter's cock!" Varro moans as Spartacus shoves him against the wall mouthing at his collar bone. In truth he's never been with a man before, but the more time he spends with the Thracian the more he's been contemplating it.

"His is not the one I seek," Spartacus growls in his ear slipping his hand down his subligaculum. Varro tilts his head back banging it against the wall of Spartacus's cell.

"Continue speaking like that and find my performance less than pleasing." The smaller man chuckles deep in his throat as his fingers carefully wrap themselves around Varro's cock. 

"With the size of you, I fear that will not be a problem." 

It felt like a frenzy to Varro. He had a whore just last week; yet with the way Spartacus was kissing him, urging their bodies to grind together it might has well been a life time ago since he had been with a woman. His mind was a muddled mess as they worked each other's clothes off, falling onto the Champion's bed. It creaked under their combined weight and to his surprise the mad man laughed. The blonde shakes his head with a grin. It shouldn't have been a shock. He watches entranced as Spartacus slips two of Varro's fingers into his mouth. Tongue lavishing them while blue eyes burned into each other. 

"I feel we should talk about this," An irritated suck, "-unh- briefly. Exceptionally brief." Spartacus pouts guiding Varro's hand from his lips down his abdomen and straight for his already used entrance. 

"What's to talk about? I would rather you than the Gaul and am in  _dire_ need of the distraction. This will keep you satisfied-" Spartacus gasps as Varro instinctively slips the lubricated digits inside him, "extremely satisfied, to the point where purchasing- oh gods-" Varro tilts his head as he scissors his fingers curling and pumping them as he listens. 

"Go on," 

"T-to the point where purchasing wh-oh-res is no longer necessary." Spartacus grips onto Varro's forearm his legs falling open with a whimper. 

"Your victory today marked the end of your past. That was the deal you held with Batiatus." He reminds his friend. Spartacus hums when Varro's erection juts against his hip. It was hot and leaking enough for the Champion to ache. 

"Yes, that was the arrangement. However I find I need assistance in forgetting. My sorrows, my loss. P-please Varro." The fellow gladiator leans down nibbling on his earlobe. 

"You understand, than in a little over a year; I will be going home to my wife and child?" He questions using his knees to support him so his free hand could stroke absently at Spartacus's ignored cock. Spartacus jerks his hips up into his grip with a shout. 

"Yes. I understand. I will make do with fucking Crixus should he survive when you are gone. Or else find another." Varro grins twisting his wrists getting Spartacus to writhe at the new sensation. 

"And why would you not do so now?" His breath was hot in Spartacus's ear, sending goosebumps down his spine. "Explain it to me champion." Varro demands settling himself between Spartacus's thighs. 

"Because, you set my blood a flame with just a touch. You're my only and closest friend. I trust none other. Anyone else would be flesh and flesh alone. I need you Varro." Spartacus explains squeezing his eyes shut. Varro sighs contently before replacing his fingers with cock in a flash of a second. Spartacus screams something in a language Varro knows not, wrapping his legs and arms about the larger man. 

"I find myself sharing your fate in this, oh Bringer of Rain." Varro teases, as he starts a bruising pace. "Since I met you my thoughts have not been my own." He buries his face in the crook of the Champion's neck. 

The noise was obnoxious. Skin slapping, ass practically squelching from the angle it was taking the large cock. Quiet moans and soft groans from the blonde. Yet Spartacus could not hold back his screams of encouragement. Even when biting his lip till it bleed. It took a few shifts of angles for Varro to find that sweet spot deep within his partner. But once he did Spartacus was lost. All senses forgotten in the pursuit of release. He met Varro thrust for thrust, greedily sucking on the other's tongue forgetting on who might hear. 

"Oh fuck the gods Varro I-" Varro quiets him by joining their lips once more shivering with delight when Spartacus stills under him, streams of hot white splattering their chests adding to the obscenity. It didn't take long after for Varro to join him, a shuddering gasp escaping as he falls half on top half beside Spartacus. 

The two lie their panting in silence for a while. Both in a limp state of spent satisfaction. Spartacus pets the curly blonde hair bemused at what has happened to his life. Although his heart clenches at the thought of Sura, his stomach no longer threatens to force its way up his throat. An emptiness inside of his has been...occupied. Not quite filled. He huffs in dark, ironic, amusement. 

"Something funny Champion?" Varro asks turning his head to look at him. Spartacus laughs softly. 

"Not at all...just..." He sighs looking up at the ceiling, "Sura once told me I would never love another  _woman_." Varro stares at him intently waiting for him to make some sense. "She never said I wouldn't love a man." A snort catches his attention.  "You believe me false?" 

"No, not false. Just...misguided." Spartacus frowns quirking an eyebrow, "True, I do not think you will love another woman as wholly and truly as you did your wife. And it is in fact possible for you to love a man. I agree with this..." Varro explains running a thumb across Spartacus's cheek. His breath hitches noticing the sadness in the dark blue eyes staring at him.

"But you do not believe it to be you?" He questions.

"No." Varro admits after a moments hesitation. "No I do not believe you do or will love me. Not in the way you think." Spartacus opens his mouth to argue but Varro silences him with a quick kiss. "Hush now Champion. Get some rest and I shall see you in the morrow. Doctore will not doubt have some extra training for us. I also hear tale of the Legatus's wife visiting." Spartacus grimaces.

"That woman is a snake dressed in silk." Varro laughs getting dressed.

"Aren't all " _proper_ " Roman women?" Spartacus chuckles watching Varro leave. He hopes one day he can convince his friend how much the man means to him. He sighs laying down. Oh well. Troubles for the morning. 

 


	7. Was That Actually Right? Oh My Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus struggles with his emotions and desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the wait on the update! Life has been hectic lately. I had food poisoning last week, and my friend was sick and we hadn't been watching the show and I am just so sorry. I'm extremely grateful for your patience. The comments and kudos are always appreciated. There was a light bulb that went off thanks to one of them that inspired this whole chapter so please let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy!

Crixus watches him as the rest of the Gladiators chant his name. There was something like resentment settling in his chest. Barca told him earlier that Batiatus offered the Celt coin to come and go as he pleased if he decided he wanted to stay and fight. And the drunk ass decided not to. He's leaving because of Doctore's wife. Gannicus turns and offers his hand to Crixus. His stomach twists in embarrassment. After last night? That's all he's worth to him? He smiles softly taking the hand. Fine. If they were going to act like nothing happened. Then that's what they were doing. Ignoring the ache in his chest Crixus states,

"We have not yet had proper contest."

"Win your own freedom and seek me out." The two blink at each other. Crixus's heart was pounding against his ribs. There was so much more held in that sentence than just a legendary battle. If he wasn't mistaken he could see a blush forming on the Celt's cheeks. Gannicus smiles quickly passing him with a pat to his shoulder. It left a bitter taste in his mouth knowing that would probably be the last touch he received from the man. The moron was probably going to get himself killed. A wave of panic hits him when he thinks about all of the terrible things that could happen to Gannicus while he was out. What if he couldn't get a job? Be homeless? Hungry and alone? Cold in the winter months? What if he got set upon? Robbed and left for dead? Crixus stares off into the distance in horror and almost didn't hear the gentle voice.

Gannicus stops mid step as he passes Crixus. Guilt was eating him alive. About Melitta, his betrayal to Oenomaus, and his leaving Crixus. It shouldn't mean anything to him. The  _Gaul_ shouldn't mean anything to him. But every time he closes his eyes, it was either Melitta he was seeing, or Crixus. He hates seeing either, but it was so much worse when it was the Gladiator. He could barely remember how Melitta felt now. Before last night every nerve seemed hyper set on sinking the feel of her into him. Everything has changed. Everything has shifted so that his skin  **burned** with the memory of Crixus. His hands, his mouth, that  _tongue_. Even just shaking the man's hand had his cock hardening. He sighs heavily and turns slightly. 

"Crixus." He calls, taking his necklace off. The hesitation from Crixus actually stung a little. "I was given this when I became Champion of this house." Gannicus was glad for Barca, the way the Beast glared at others to have them disperse and prepare for the day's training instead of watching them. The awe on Crixus's face was heart warming and made Gannicus debate on whether or not maybe...he should stay. At least in Capua? "Wear it with more honor than I have." He finds himself saying instead. 

Crixus's hands shake a little as he fastens the necklace in place. He swallows a lump of emotion as he straightens his shoulders. There were those who were watching him. He knows that now from Lucretia's stare, and the pathetic little thump he can hear in the back ground. A sure sign of that fuck Ashur. He should have killed him when he had the chance. As it stands, it mattered not. He was never going to be a Gladiator before. Crixus nods to himself. In retrospect, it was almost like he's saved the Syrian's life. Bastard should be grateful.

Barca moves to stand next to him while Gannicus talks to Doctore drawing Crixus out of his thoughts. The two smile at each other before turning to watch Gannicus. His heart clenches when the former Champion turns back to smile at them. He was interrupted by someone handing him a wooden sword and shield. He hopes that he can do it. Honor the house, and more importantly honor Gannicus. It was strange but Crixus had the oddest feeling that he was never going to fight the Celt. And he was alright with that. With that note he focuses on training, especially when Doctore calls for first positions. 

"I'm going to miss that mad fuck." Barca sighs blocking a blow. Crixus nods slowly.

"As will I. Apparently proper competition doesn't exist here without him." He banters tapping at Barca's injured side. The Beast barks out a laugh twisting away and managing to smack Crixus's back. 

"I do not believe it to be competition you are wishing from him, little man." Barca taunts dodging another hit. Crixus blushes slightly.

"Hold your tongue. My life is the Arena. My blood its sand." He informs defensively. The two swipe at each other, colliding their weapons with a loud thunk. 

"And what of your heart, Champion?" Crixus blinks at him. 

"Gladiators do not have hearts." Barca laughs loudly shaking his head.

"So Auctus was merely a hole is that what you're implying?" Crixus grimaces at the accusation. 

"Apologies. I did not mean insult." The Gaul barely ducks in time to miss the spear hitting the side of his head. Grumbling he throws a few blows at his sparing partner aggravated. Barca rolls his eyes.

"You have much to learn little man." Crixus scowls at the nickname. Even with the faint tone of affection behind it; it was still annoying and certainly pissed Crixus off. 

"Oh and I suppose you're offering to step in to teach me?" He snips managing a couple of good hits. Barca shifts looking around before shrugging at him, Crixus hits the spear a few times waiting for a response when he realizes; "Wait...were you offering your services?" Barca snorts.

"I was offering to be beneficial. Something the both of us could use right about now." The Beast says matter-of-factually. But it didn't hide the blush that rose to his cheeks, Crixus stays silent for a while thinking it over. On the one hand it would be useful. But on the other...the necklace- no-  _his_  necklace bounces against his collar bone making him look down at it.

"I...To be honest Barca, I respect you. You're a friend one I am hoping to be close to for the rest of our days. Glory shining upon our names...but I do not think I would want another man in the same way I wish for the Celt." He spoke softly, so as not to be heard but also to convey his thoughts on the matter. Barca nods slowly listening to him. 

"Alright. Then I offer you any and all advice I can give if you simply ask for it." Barca smiles reassuringly. Crixus looks a little surprised.

"You aren't going to try and see if I-" Barca manages to hit him on the ass. 

"Silence you fuck. The last person I was willing to submit to is now dead and I've decided that he was the last." Doctore instructs for the midday meal and they trudge off to get some porridge. Crixus is still a little wary of it considering who he was with. 

"So, what service do you now think the newest Champion has a say in the matter?"Barca laughs at him. 

"Much more than his conversation skills I hope." The two laugh draping an arm around each other's shoulder. It was going to be the start to a wonderful friendship. Crixus could just feel it. 


	8. Student Becoming the Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro's jealousy has started rearing its head. Crixus offers a way to rid him of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, lots of people keep wanting some bottom!Crixus, and I understand how frustrating it is, but until she gets a little further into season three, then there isn't anything I can do about it. I'm sorry! Also I am SO sorry for the delay there was a hurricane and I had to evacuate and I didn't get any free time to type thanks to my son and I didn't get a chance to post this chapter so thank you for the patience there will be another chapter relatively soon I swear Mostly because this is going to be a two parter! Thank you guys for your patience and of course your comments and kudos are so extremely welcomed! I hope you enjoy!

Ever since he was allowed out and about it was damned insufferable to be around Crixus. With Barca leaving, Pietros killing himself and Spartacus tossing Gnaeus off the side of the cliff Crixus didn't have anyone he was  _close_ to. Plenty of the Gladiators were behind the Gaul and gave their full support to his return; but it was different. Watching Spartacus toss Crixus around and quote the same speech they were given by the former Champion was heart warming. But afterwards when Crixus was sent to the medicus it wasn't long until Spartacus was following. Varro scowls as he watches him go. Probably used more force than necessary on the pias. When the sword breaks he curses and stomps off to drag Spartacus out if need be. Getting closer he could hear them arguing and couldn't find it in him to be surprised. 

"...put your ego away,"

"Eat shit,"

"If you would just let yourself heal properly-" 

"Nobody asked for your concern you shit eating-" Rounding the corner he stops dead to see Crixus pinned to the wall by Spartacus, their mouths locked in a furious debate. He was close enough to hear the Gaul groan as Spartacus grinds against him. They break apart long enough to gasp and Crixus mutter, "fuck" under his breath before their lips crash together again. 

In a way it was erotic to see Crixus's hands slide through Spartacus's short hair, gripping the roots tight. It certainly had blood rushing down to see Spartacus whimper his hands running down Crixus's side to dig his fingers into his hips. But more than that it sent a rage through him. The only thing that kept him in place was a mix of shock and a loud sense of logic that reminded him that he was married to Aurelia. 

Then of course the Gaul moved a hand down into Spartacus's subligarium  and grabbed his ass. 

"A fine showing." He states loudly. The two break apart as if burned. Crixus looking merely startled while Spartacus looks guilty. Varro folds his arms noticing the Thracian's lips were red and slightly swollen from the kiss.

"Varro! I-" Varro holds up a hand silencing him.

"Save it." Crixus looks between the two of them raising an eyebrow with mild interest. "It seems our little discussion the other night was little more than a cheap replacement." Spartacus's face falls with a disbelieving scoff.

"Varro, I never meant...my intent was never..." Lost Spartacus sighs walking over putting a hand on his shoulder. "My apologies. Hurting you is the last thing I wished. My behavior with Crixus was inappropriate and ill timed." A snort has them both turning. 

"Oh, apologies I did not realize I was allowed words. Especially in this matter." Spartacus glares at him darkly while Varro huffs. "Know that it was never _my_ intent to sleep with this cunt. Had I known he was yours I would have kept twice the distance." Varro grins a little.

"You think him mine?" Varro almost laughs at the insult huff Spartacus makes going red.

"And your reasoning?" He demands. Crixus motions between them,

"Besides this obvious lovers quarrel?" 

"Oh are we lovers now? That's nice," Varro comments leaning away from his friend. Spartacus grimaces,

"It makes sense. I simple originally thought he was just your only friend." Spartacus's mouth drops while Varro laughs loudly.

"If you must know, unlike  _you_ Crixus, I have laid with people before. You were certainly not my first." Crixus folds his arms looking between the two of them in careful thought. 

"Follow me you fucks."

Varro tries not to pout as they fall in step behind the Gaul. He had tried to argue against it, but Spartacus muttered something about not bruising an already injured ego. It was appalling the amount of underlined concern the two held for each other. If he didn't know any better he would think it brotherly. As is, Varro was not overly convinced that Crixus had never lain with a woman before. Certainly the way he all but gawks at Lucretia's personal attendee would make one think as much. He sighs heavily as they turn a corner making it to Crixus's cell. 

"A proper bed to use, that has to be new to the pair of you." Spartacus makes a face while Crixus rolls his eyes. He motions them in and shuts the door behind them, standing off to the side out of site from the hallway. 

"I do not particularly like either of you two shits," Spartacus sighs,

"His dirty talk needs work." Varro notes earning a small smile from the small man. 

"However," Crixus says loudly, "I do believe you two can keep a secret." Suddenly both fellow gladiators were interested. He sighs deeply and pulls out a cloth bag from a chest. Varro doesn't miss the blush creeping up on Crixus' face as he hands it over. Spartacus takes it and his eyes widen in question. Varro doesn't hesitate to take it from him. It was heavy, and feeling around in the bag makes him scrunch up his face in confusion. It almost felt like, 

"What in the Gods names, the fuck is  _that_?" Varro asks while Spartacus reaches in the bag and pulls out the object. Crixus smiles looking reminiscent. 

"Marble." 

"Where did you get it?" Spartacus asks inspecting the toy. Varro wishes he could tear his eyes off of the way Spartacus was focused on the damned thing. Pointless to try, all he could do was hold back a moan while a finger traced a carved vein. 

"....Barca..." Crixus mumbles folding his arms. Both of them snap their attention back to him. Crixus purses his lips looking at the ground. 

"You...and...Barca." Varro whispers trying to imagine it. Thinking back, it made sense. The way the two always were sparring together. Barely interacting without the other. In fact unless Barca was out with Batiatus they were pretty much together. Even Pietros didn't spend as much time with the Beast of Carthage as the Undefeated Gaul. "Huh..." 

"He used this on you?" Spartacus asks in disbelief. Crixus turns red.

"Why?" Varro asks confused. Crixus leans against a wall looking, well...nervous. Varro blinks, it was not a look he was used to seeing on the man. Who knew the Gaul had insecurities? Glancing over, it seems the patient look Spartacus gives, he did. 

"Because he was busy with Pietros?" Crixus answers hesitantly, almost as if he wasn't telling the whole truth. 

"You, Barca... _and_ Pietros?" Spartacus re-confirms eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. 

"How did that even work?" Varro asks taking the dildo from Spartacus looking between it and Crixus. The Gaul gives a slow smile sauntering forward.


	9. Teaching Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro and Spartacus learn a few new things about Crixus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your patience! Again I am so sorry about the wait. Hurricane Michael fucked my shit up! (Schedule wise at least) But I hope you guys liked the last chapter and I hope you like this one too! Comments and Kudos are always welcome and appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

It took some instruction but with help from the two of them Varro was able to situate himself on the chest that Crixus was allowed to use, and after being handed a vial of oil had managed two fingers inside of himself. Truth be told he wasn't sure if he wasn't gifted the showing before him, whether or not he would enjoy it. As it was, he could see the moment when Spartacus bites his lower lip as he whines, squeezing his legs together. Varro struggled to keep his balance thrusting his digits in and out at an increased pace. He didn't know Crixus was so talented with his mouth. The Gaul glances up at the current Champion eyes dancing with self-satisfaction. Spartacus jolts when Crixus turns his head and gently bites one of his thighs.

"I have to admit; it is a sight," Spartacus sits up on his elbows looking past Crixus to Varro, "watching the Slayer of Theokoles made a writhing mess by just a mouth." Spartacus huffs in annoyance. 

"You come and have the Gaul tormenting your ass this way then." Crixus rolls his eyes and smacks Spartacus's hip twice.

"I will not, but I cannot do much with you suffocating me, you cunt." Spartacus blushes unlocking his ankles from behind Crixus's head, legs simply falling to the side. "Are you ready for your lesson then? It was you who pondered this out loud in the first place." He asks the blonde, as he dips his hand into a basin of oil he had retrieved from the chest. Varro bites his cheek in debate. He was curious, but that damned dildo would put even the horse cock of a recruit to shame. 

"And you are certain, that this works?" Crixus grins coating his own erection with the liquid. 

"Are you frightened? A little deer without the balls to grow its horns?" Varro scowls as he rights himself, standing to his full height. He was  _not_ afraid. "Good, now come to the bed, knees drawn to your chest." 

 

Spartacus was even exasperated at the amount of explaining they had to do for his friend. Crixus had to swat his hand away from pleasuring himself in his impatience. Varro muttered under his breath earning a smack upside the head by the Gaul making Spartacus chuckle. Of course that simply earned him a smack from the pair of them. Crixus actually pushes Varro onto the bed and starts rearranging the Roman's limbs. Soon Crixus had Varro's head tucked into his folded arms looking at Spartacus, while his hips and ass were slightly elevated, knees on the bed touching his chest. 

"Well, maybe next time we can borrow Doctore's whip. You seem to take direction better with it." Spartacus teases reaching over and placing a soft kiss on his lips. Varro makes a small noise slipping his tongue into the Champion's mouth. Crixus blinks standing at the edge of the bed. If he had ever known; that  _this_ was the view Barca had....shaking his head Crixus pulls out the marble. He was careful to let any excess oil drip onto himself instead of the floor. 

 "Perhaps a smaller whip, made for such things." Crixus adds, climbing on top of Spartacus slinging one of the Champion's leg over his shoulder. He grimaces remembering this was one of Lucretia's favorite positions. The two were busy with each other and didn't notice, thankfully. So Crixus moves Spartacus's limb so it was slung over Varro's back, ankle hooking onto the curve of the elevated ass. They glance at him but he ignores the questioning look they give. 

"Perhaps not." Varro says reaching out to cup Spartacus's face. Crixus shrugs lining himself up between Spartacus's thighs. "Suit yourself." 

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus shouts when Crixus slides into him with one hard thrust. Varro's eyes widen before he starts kissing him in hurriedly. 

"Silence you mad fuck. Or we will be discovered." The blonde whispers against his lips. Crixus smirks. Nobody would bat an eye at Spartacus and Varro being a pair. He can only think of two people who would have an issue with Crixus joining them. One of which has the power to send them all to the mines. Or worse. 

"He's right, little man." Crixus mutters pulling almost all the way out, looking down to watch the way Spartacus's muscles try to keep him inside. He finds the way Spartacus arches up towards him addicting. The senseless murmuring that tumbles out of his mouth, Varro's breath hitches when Spartacus snakes his hand down and wraps around his unused cock. Crixus feels nails dig into his shoulder, he wasn't aware of when Spartacus reached up to grab hold. 

Crixus moves to hold the dildo by the balls, nestling it against Varro's hole, gliding it first up, and then down. He smirks at the shiver Varro does. Spartacus rocks his hips and wraps the leg that wasn't on Varro around Crixus's waist trying to pull him closer. Crixus shushes him, pinching a nipple. Spartacus jumps a strangled noise escaping him. Varro hesitantly starts pushing backwards biting his lip. Crixus smirks focusing his attentions on him and not Spartacus. He releases the nipple so he can smack the closest ass cheek, gripping it and pulling it away enough so he could see exactly what he was doing. Spartacus makes an impatient noise trying to stroke his own cock again. Crixus glances at him before thrusting back into him fully. Spartacus groans hips jerking. 

Varro swallows hard pulling away from Spartacus to press his forehead into his arm panting slightly. Crixus slowly pushes the toy in. Inch by scrutinizing inch. Varro gasps. The sensation of being full, was new and strange. There was a burn he wasn't prepared for as he was stretched open far wider than his own fingers could have ever. He felt every ridge of the damned thing and was convinced that the only reason his cock continued standing proud was the way Spartacus's hand worked him. When he felt Crixus's thumb at his entrance he took a few deep breaths. Bottomed out, Crixus gives him a moment to adjust, starting a steady pace with the Thracian. Spartacus cries out softly a smile falling on his face matching his thrusts to Crixus's. 

It was distracting for Varro, when Spartacus releases his cock in favor of clawing at Crixus's arms. The noises they made were borderline obnoxious. He takes a few breathes to calm himself, allowing the marble cock within him to become comfortable. He must have managed it as Crixus starts pulling it out and then easing it back. Varro grits his teeth when the stupid Gaul shifts it. Angling it higher, to the side. Almost as if he was searching for something. At the softening of his cock he was ready to call it quits when all of a sudden a jolt was sent through him. In surprise he shouts out a curse spilling over Spartacus's hand without warning. The two beside him chuckle putting a halt to their own fucking. 

"There we go." Crixus murmurs as he starts to fuck Varro in earnest with the toy. The Roman thrust backwards desperatly a small noise tumbling past his lips as a bundle of nerves he never knew he had was assaulted. After a few changes Crixus was able to match his hand and his hips in sync. Nothing, not a single fight in the Arena, not his night with Gannicus, or any of the times with Barca and Pietros, could have prepared him for the amount of, for lack of a better term,  _power_ he felt having the two of them moaning his name while they writhed under his touch. 

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus keens pulling himself up, wrapping himself around Crixus as best as he could. The Gaul shifts, with the new position keeps the weight off his ankles. Varro grips the edge of the bed gripping until his knuckles turned white. Varro gasps with a shudder as he comes again. Crixus slows his hand down, almost thankfully so, with a slight cramp forming in his palm. Spartacus whimpers and bites Crixus's shoulder. 

"Do not leave mark you cunt." He harshly whispers their hips stilling at the same time. Spartacus groans deeply coating their chests. With his release the muscles surrounding Crixus's cock contract drawing his own out with him.

Slowly and carefully Crixus pulls the toy out of Varro and himself out of Spartacus. The Roman and the Thracian collapse on his bed panting heavily. He smiles almost fondly and he gets up and starts cleaning. The marble was quick and easy. Himself he had to be more thorough. His wounds for starters so as not to get an infection so close to being fully healed. Also anything that might draw Lucretia's notice. Or Naevia's.  He would not look forward to  **that** conversation between either of them. Once finished with himself he gently helps was the other two, not pointing out the fact that even though he and Spartacus have fucked twice before this, that they had never been so...intimate or...soft with the other. 

"You clean as if Jupiter himself were to smite you if otherwise soiled." Varro smirks from his arm. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

"Are you ashamed of our coupling?" Spartacus asks looking wounded. The Gaul grimaces at the sadness reflecting in the pools of blue. Varro rolls a little quirking an eyebrow waiting for some sort of response. Crixus sighs and leans against the wall glancing through the door to make sure nobody was around. 

"Don't be foolish. I would never do something I was ashamed of unless so ordered by Dominus or Domina." Spartacus smiles reassured by his words. Varro however looked unconvinced. 

"So why do I feel like we are being rushed?" He questions sitting up and reaching for his loincloth. Spartacus glances between the two of them shoulders sagging. Crixus sighs heavily.

"Because of Lucretia." Both sets of blue look at him in bewilderment. "Keep this silent as well as what transpired between us." It was not a question, or a request. Calling it a veiled threat would be putting it nicely. "She and Batiatus have tried for child for years, and Gauls are known for the fertility." He mutters a blush creeping on his cheeks. 

"That...that explains so fucking much." Varro whispers more to himself. Spartacus just stares at him in open mouthed horror. 

"Yes, well...Domina is rather...possessive. I fear death for all if she discovers the truth." The pair nod at him.

"You have our word, none will speak of this." Spartacus vows dressing. Crixus smiles softly at them. 

"Good. Now go you shits."


	10. A Cut From A Cunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was going through Spartacus's mind during Ilythia and her friend's visit to the Ludus. Something bad to make him lash out after he had "given up" his past life and being the well behaved Gladiator he was pretending to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend is in Season three so soon I will be working on catching up this fic with everything she's been seeing and she will be helping me on some of them since one of these chapters that is coming up was entirely her idea. Thank you guys so much for your patience I know I should be posting more I've completely ignored some of my other works. I did have to post one of my stories because it was a draft and about to be deleted. Your comments and kudos are so welcome, they warm my heart. Thank you guys you rock. Also this will be a short chapter sorry not sorry.

Spartacus fought hard not to smirk while these Roman women ogled him. He could see how Domina and the Legatus' wife resented this behavior. It warmed his heart to piss the two women who had part in stealing his fate away off. The way the other three kept on, comparing him to Mars had Spartacus practically preening. Besides the crowd all but throwing themselves at him it had been a while since a woman had admired him. Especially up close and personal. They way they seemed memorized. An idea forms about how these women's husbands all must be similar in physic as Batiatus or Glaber if not worse. Roman's never did care for the effort it took to get in good shape. The one they called Licinia sucks in a breath as she studies him. He takes a deep breath to steal himself. It would not do anyone well to insult the two off to the side, either of them. Even if it was just with his pleased smile. They were all young, curvy and pretty women, understandable why he liked their eyes on him.

Something that makes his stomach churn however; was the way he had to keep  **his** eyes  _off_ of Glaber's young woman. He first saw her back when he was in the Auxiliary. A life time ago in Thrace. He was giving his report of the Gigae and their plans to circle back around. She was wearing a coat of furs and presumably nothing else. What with the noises they heard at their approach and the state of both the Roman's hair, it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out what they had been doing. With her state of dress Spartacus had thought her a common, or possibly even favored whore. He understood the appeal. True it was rare to see one with such pale hair in his village. Her eyes were certainly startling and now that he's seen her in an actual dress, her curves were revealed, reminding him that however much he enjoys the affections and attentions of Crixus and Varro his preference seems to remain with women and- did they say blood?

"The mighty Crixus, certainly." Illythia remarks, fiddling with her cup, gaze not quite making it to his face.

Spartacus takes a breath focusing on the discussion the women were having. A legend about the blood of the champion being the blood of the gods? Fucking Romans were riddiculous. He could hear Sura warning him in his head about laughing at legends and the gods. He wished to argue that Crixus was nothing more than a short angry fuck who refused to use his brain for anything but the sword but,

"What of you Spartacus?" The blonde in blue was asking. "Are you a blessing to us?" He gives a curt nod glancing at her.

"So some. To others;" He looks up at Glaber's wife, "a curse." When she dismisses his slight with a reminder that he was a slave Spartacus resumes looking at the wall, demanding his cock to quit hardening. The women were talking about having blood, first in wine, then in a vial. But this...Licinia. She gave off the air of not being patient. Getting what she wants, when she wants it. Greed and lust radiated off her skin, much like she said being more than a common slave did his own. Then he watched as Illythia lifted up a knife and  started walking towards him with a smile. A sliver of fear runs down his spine. It doesn't escape his notice the blood lust shining in the eyes he used to think innocent. Nor does he forget that the entire reason he's in this ridiculous mess, the reason his wife was dead was because her useless fuck of a husband went back on his word and Spartacus as a result ended up "insulting" the cunt. Not his fault the bastard wanted to seek glory rather than be a man and own up to his own actions. The tip of the blade touches his abdomen causing slight worry. It seemed to be an understanding in every culture that if you insult a woman's husband you're also insulting the woman. Lucretia's warning dissipates his concern immediately. He almost forgot he was too valuable currently to Batiatus to be killed just yet. 

Illythia makes a face, and Spartacus couldn't help but glance down at her. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes as she brushes off Lucretia's words with a flourish. A couple of images flash through his head of all the ways he could rid the burning hate in those blue eyes. She was obviously a passionate thing. For such a spoiled brat. A few positions and a well placed hand could have her attitude changed to his favor. Spartacus realizing he was looking down her dress as she slowly trailed the knife upwards to his chest. Spartacus clenches his jaw, forces his back to remain rigid but could not manage to look away from her face as she draws blood. The blade glides against his skin, while she watched with a satisfied smile. The Thracian flexes a muscle in his jaw, hating the way his cock twitches in anticipation. Some how his stupid body has associated being cut with sex. How, he would never understand. Everything in him wanted to beg her to cut him again while she collects the blood in a cup. Something tells him that Illythia would only have to cut him twice more before he would be undone.

"He's nothing but a Thracian dog." Spartacus blinks, his skin a fire, aching for her to bring the blade back, "His treachery dishonored Rome!" She quips at her friend. He clenches his fists to keep himself from reaching out and taking a hold of her wrists and guiding her back to the task she started. He had to get out of there. He knew of one way that could get him killed but; it would be worth it. Rather than making a complete fool of himself in front of these women, especially  _Glaber's_ wife.

"It is your  **husband** who bears the dishonor." Predictably once he spoke Lucretia demanded the guards to remove him. But he couldn't help finish his comment and the slapped look on Illythia's face, "He abandoned  defenseless women and children," She looked more memorized than anything at his voice, reminding him these were the first words he's spoken directly to her, "leaving them to be raped and murdered." He was practically breathless at the end of this statement as the guards dragged him off. Unnecessarily, he was going willingly. Their grips did not need to be so tight.

 

 

Being shoved back into the social area of the Ludus Spartacus glances over to where Varro was playing dice. Stupidly. Winning it seemed, but without having learned his lesson. Even with being in here while his wife and child await. Crixus was no where in current sight, and even though Varro would gladly follow him off to some solitary spot to be of a physical distraction, (one his cock was straining for) Spartacus decided to forget his own issues for a moment. His friend needed a wake up call. And some humility would do just the trick.  

 


	11. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucretia and Crixus chapter!  
> Also Crixus and a surprise person!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I realized I had neglected some of my other fics and had to update one of them! Thank you guys for your patience and support! As usual comments and kudos, and suggestions are always welcomed!

She smiles as she settles the wig in place. It was Gaia's favorite. It rather suited Lucretia herself if she dared to think so. Tilting her head this way and that she smiled more and more. Gaia always seemed bold and powerful, strong willed and lose morals. A woman. In every sense of the word.Nodding to herself Lucretia gives the guard the go ahead to summon Crixus. Gaia was always fond of the Gaul and to Lucretia's knowledge her friend never got the chance to lay with him. The wig and the Gaul were two ways she could honor and remember her friend. Be damned with what Titus says the old fart, may he rest in peace. She thinks to herself with a satisfied smirk.

 

Crixus stands warily in front of her a few moments later. He was obviously strong. Physically, of course. All men were weak when it came to the softer sex. And of course intellectually. But he was a slave so he was already at a disadvantage that way. However, as strong as he appeared, it was obvious that he was nervous. They had already discussed that she was his first lover. Which made him the more sanitary choice from the get go, but the power she wielded over him. If she wanted to, all she had to say was that he lost mind and came at her and have him thrown over the cliff. A few tears here and there, maybe a scream or two would have her darling Quintus eating out of her hand.  

"Raise eyes," She orders after a greeting speech. "What do you see?" She questions as he does as he was told. 

"The Domina of this house." He whispers harshly eyes glancing down. Gaia would not be satisfied with that answer. A title surely, but also a label. Oh how her friend used to hate labels. 

"Is that all?" A slight hesitation. 

"A woman. Unlike any other I have ever seen before." He admits straightening his shoulders as if summoning courage. 

"Better." She praises, noticing as she does, a small look of relief crosses his features.

"I did not think I had pleased you, when last called to your chambers." Lucretia smirks slightly remembering. He didn't. It was clumsy and awkward. But part of that was her fault. Expecting him to handle her as her husband does. 

"I love my husband beyond  _all_ men." She emphasizes in case Crixus has gotten the wrong idea stepping up into his personal space, loving the way he shifts his stance into a defensive position. "And I would do anything for him and his," She glances down, "legacy." Lucretia smirks at him. The Gaul kept looking up and down, as always his stare was intense. A shiver of anticipation actually manages to weave its way down her spin. "I do not seek pleasure. I need only your cock." She tells herself more than him. "Speak of this and see it parted from your body." Crixus surprises her by roughly stripping his clothes off, as if insulted by her insinuation that he did not please her last time. He  _was_ an impressive size after all, and like all men obviously sensitive about it. Delicate creatures they were. There was something of a challenge present in his eyes. It startled her, because she could feel the heat pooling in her lower belly as she stared back at him.

"Yes, Domina." He answers clearly. Lucretia smirks again, deciding to remind him of his place.

"Your hair and your beard," She takes his chin and forces his gaze to the wall behind her, "give the appearance of a fucking animal." There was a light dropping from his eyes, she liked that she caused it. "I would have you reformed into some semblance of a man, to make the lie I must tell myself more convincing." She states haughtily turning on her heel to walk off. Crixus was following in less than a breath. 

 

 

The sound of wet skin slapping echoed slightly through the villa. Crixus was panting with effort, and there were a few harsh breaths from Lucretia but he didn't get much more. He was still nervous about this whole situation. For starters, if Dominus found out the two of them would be killed. If anyone else found out, they'd tell Lucretia that they know and Crixus would be killed. If they succeeded then Domina would have his child and he would be forced to watch it grow up as the son of Quintus Luntulius Batiaus. None of these options appealed to him. But then Lucretia contracted around him, her wet heat convulsing tightly making his hips jerk out of rhythm, harsher than he had intended. Her surprised gasp makes him concerned but she reaches out and grips his ass pulling him closer with a soft moan. He was doing something right! Encouraged, Crixus speeds his thrusts up finding the way she arches sends a rush of excitement to his cock. And here he thought the only thing he was attracted to were drunken blood soaked Celts. Last time it took every bit of will power to finish, but the way she wrapped her legs about him angled him deeper, to the point where his balls were lightly slapping against her ass sending small shocks up his spine as they did. Shame and self disgust twist in his gut as he holds onto her hips, chasing his release with a bit of desperation. Shortly after he grunts spilling into her with a few hard thrusts. The two collapse in a small heap of shocked sighs and groans. 

"Off. I need to bath your sweat off of me." She hisses. Crixus blinks before nodding and following orders. He dresses quickly and follows the guard back down into the bowels of the Ludus. He was in need of a bath himself, but figured he would eat something first. It was past time for the evening meal anyways. Sighing he fixes himself a bowl nodding over to one of the newer house slaves. A boy named Pietros he thinks. The gates open as Dominus and the others make their way through. He doesn't miss the fact that all of them were covered in blood. Barca was being lead to the Medicus by Oenomaus and Gannicus. Even with just being spent, the mere sight of the Champion has his cock thickening again. Not a one of them give him a sparing glance. Figures. 

"Crixus." A guard calls him. Sighing he turns to glare at them. 

"You are to come with me." He nods and follows pitifully.  

 

He sits in silence on the side of the stone basin the Gladiators use as a tub while a slave girl he barely recognizes takes a knife to his hair. More carefully so with his beard as not to cut him. She was experienced in this. Young, and very determined. He's seen her before but he isn't sure where. True she was pretty but...a bud of a flower, yet to bloom. He nods his thanks after she wipes him down to rid him of any excess. 

"Good luck in the opening games tomorrow." She murmurs, probably more out of politeness than anything. 

"Thank you," He pauses ready to ask her name; but she was already fleeing out of the baths. The mark of the Domina was seen on her back shoulder. Lucretia's personal slave. He wonders if that means he did good. Shaking his head Crixus steps into the water and bathes himself feeling the weight of his actions. He was here to fight. To win. To kill for the honor of this Ludus. To become the champion of Capua. To defeat the Celt and win his respect. Fighting harder and better than any other slave in history. He would not be forgotten. Yet; twice now, Crixus sighs again sinking into the water, twice now he's been treated like some sort of whore. A horse to be bred and used. He's never thought about children before, however he knows he would not like seeing his sons, or hell even his daughters be called a Roman's. Lucretia's sure, the mother did not matter...but to not be acknowledged as the father? Crixus shakes his head and stands up. 

"Whoa, uh apologies." Crixus looks up to see Ashur stunned in the doorway nothing but a towel around his waist and one bundled in his hand. "I, er, I almost did not recognize you brother. The new look," Ashur motions to Crixus's face but rubbing his own smiling brightly, "it suits you." The Gaul's shoulders slump a little. Wonderful. The fucking Syrian thinks he looks nice. Ashur frowns stepping forward. "I meant no offense." Crixus shakes his head.

"None was given. It's simply...strange and new." He admits with a shrug looking down at the water. Ashur pats his shoulder.

"I am sure in time you will become accustomed to it." Crixus nods wading to the edge to step out. But Ashur slides into his way. "Forgive me, but something else seems to be troubling you friend." Crixus grimaces. He wasn't sure why he was friendly to Ashur when they were both recruits, but he regrets it now. The Syrian was as shady as the rest of his race seemed to be. Receiving the mark absent the test or oath, using under handed tricks to win in the tournament. The bastard would not be alive if it wasn't for such treachery. However, Crixus had no friends, and the weight of his new responsibility was suffocating him. But what was he to say? Surely he could not admit to anything without being parted from his cock or life?

"A secret." He finally mutters, after it was clear Ashur wasn't going to let him free without an answer. Ashur nods,

"The secrets in this house are many and heavy. I understand. The consequences of shouldering them weigh on you as they do others." Crixus blinks looking up at Ashur. He doubts Lucretia laid with him, but...perhaps someone else used Ashur the same way Domina used Crixus? Was...Batiatus?

"Indeed they do. It is...difficult to find solace." Crixus states suddenly concerned that one day Dominus will ask him the same as Lucretia, or worse.... Ashur tilts his head a little with a nod. 

"There, ah," Ashur looking Crixus up and down quickly before glancing behind towards the doorway, "There is something I can do to help." Crixus leans backwards a little. 

"I have no interest in you Syrian," Ashur rolls his eyes.

"No," He laughs, "Crixus, no." He says more firmly as if trying to convince himself. "I have this." He says pulling out some sort of plant from the towel he was carrying. 

"The fuck is that?" Crixus asks slightly disturbed. 

"It helps to calm and relax you. I myself use it when I find myself troubled and, ah unencumbered." Ashur explains with a waggle of his eyebrows that Crixus doesn't understand. 

"Relax huh?" He questions picking up the grass like substance to study it. 

"I am more than willing to share it with you my friend." Ashur offers shedding his towel and stepping into the bath. Crixus shrugs handing it back.

"How does it work?" Ashur's grin was predatory as he sank low into the water. 

"Trust me, and everything will be fine."

 

 

 

Crixus blinks slowly raising his hand out of the water to stare at it. The water seeping down him, like some sort of clear fabric. Encasing him in its own warm silk. It had been about ten minutes since he and Ashur consumed the herb. He felt light headed. Light in general. It didn't seem to matter if Lucretia used his cock for her own purpose. He was the mighty Crixus! Soon to be Champion of Capua! He would need a name. Something to be whispered about in the streets. On the lips of every Roman and every slave. 

"I need a title." He murmurs gruffly shifting to look at Ashur. The Syrian was smiling at the ceiling both hands under water.

"Hmm? A title?" Ashur asks blinking at him, his voice breathy. Crixus nods firmly, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

"A fearsome one. To strike fear into the hearts of the fearful." Ashur laughs throatily swimming closer to him, their knees touch under the surface, but Crixus pays no mind. He was in such a wondrous mood. 

"How about; The Undefeated Gaul?" Ashur provides reaching over to stroke the sides of Crixus's face.

"That is the best name I have ever heard," Crixus agrees only barely noticing Ashur's touch. The Syrian hums in appreciation.

"Your skin is so soft." He states looking surprised. The Gaul shrugs turning so Ashur could reach better. It wasn't until he was opening his mouth under Ashur's lips did he realize the Syrian was in his lap, grinding down onto his hardening cock. The two moan as they work together to position Crixus against Ashur's hole.

"Wait, I have never-" Ashur cuts off his concern by kissing down his neck.

"Hush, future Champion. I have." Crixus opens his eyes, confused as to when they closed when he thinks of Dagan. Ashur could have been with him. Surely they were always together up until Ashur gave him to the Roman for rough use. But perhaps it was a form of payback? The eye however could not be ignored. 

"Ashur I do not think-" He's interrupted once more,

"Then don't. Just feel." Crixus moans as Ashur sinks down onto him. He was tighter than Lucretia. The water acting like a lubricant of sorts making it easier than he thought it should be. Ashur mutters something in his native tongue as he starts lifting himself up. Crixus grips his hips and pulls him back down enjoying the way the water splashes around them. His head was hazy and unclear, but the sensations from his cock were direct and sure. Wet, hot, tight,  _yes_. The two grew increasingly louder as time passed, both of them speeding as best as they could. Their paces were ill timed, not in sync. Sloppy kisses passed between them as they tried to match each other's rhythm and failing. Crixus almost slips further into the water and has to use an arm to hold onto the side of the basin. Ashur slips one hand into the water to fist himself while clumsily steadying himself on Crixus by holding his shoulder with his free one. 

"Fuck," Crixus groans placing his head in the crook of Ashur's neck, "M' close." He complains. Ashur whimpers twisting slightly. Crixus grunts shifting himself to a different angle. 

"Oh  _fuck_!" Ashur yells suddenly, bouncing faster pushing himself down harder. Crixus looks up startled at the change, stopping momentarily. "Do not stop, there fuck me there,Crixus please!  _Please_!" Ashur begs with a broken sob. Crixus nods slowly watching in amazement as Ashur reacts to his resumed thrusts. Head thrown back, mouth gaping open with a near silent shout. Suddenly Ashur's whole body was convulsing and he clings to Crixus with a scream. The muscles around his cock hold him in place, tightening almost painfully triggering his release. Crixus lets out a small whine jerking twice squeezing his eyes shut, his brain screams at him that this was not what he wanted. An image of Gannicus swimming into his mind. 

The two remain locked together for a few moments panting, trying to regain themselves. Crixus recovers first, having had less of the drug than the Syrian. Slowly and carefully he removes Ashur from his lap and rinses himself off. Ashur chuckles lounging against the side of the bath. Crixus could feel shame and horror gripping him. Whatever that plant was; never again. Not even for those few moments of relaxation. A primal sense of satisfaction nags at him, and he does his best to ignore. 

"Gratitude. The name is good, and...I feel more centered." He says hoping to appease the Syrian enough to flee. Ashur laughs lightly 

"Centered? Ah, well if any time you need to be re-balanced;" Ashur opens his arms, palms up, with a smirk, "Ashur will provide service." Crixus smiles quickly before leaving the bath grabbing his towel as he does. This was something that was  _never_ to be repeated.

"Ashur?" He gains the Syrian's attention, the smaller man looks at him with a loopy smile, "Speak of this and see cock parted from body." he echos' Lucretia's warning, simply because he knows it to be effective. Ashur shrugs still grinning.

"Of course." Crixus nods and all but runs to his cell. Something was going to have to be done about Ashur and soon, apparently. 


	12. Frienemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro and Crixus have a small argument while Spartacus was being viewed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait. Wow y'all are the most patient people ever! Thanks k you for all the comments and kudos and plot bunnies y'all are great.

Crixus storms to his cell in a huff. It shouldn't have pissed him off hearing Spartacus echo his words to that new recruit. But for some reason it just grated him. There was a part of him that wanted to just blame Naevia...but his heart rebels at the very idea. It wasn't her fault he didn't think that way anymore. Maybe he just felt guilty for encouraging Spartacus to feel that way. 

"Troubled mind?" A voice asks from the doorway. Grimacing he turns around to see Varro smirking as he leans. How that Thracian fuck could stand this Roman pissant was beyond him. 

"Nothing that concern you or your bitch." He tosses out. Varro glares momentarily before chuckling.

"I forget you mean our Champion." Varro says smoothly. Crixus steps into his space glaring up at the blond.

"He is  _not_   **my** Champion." Crixus growls at him. That smirk ever present, but Crixus has been a gladiator for too long to not notice the rage behind his blue eyes. The itch for a fight. Crixus scoffs backing off. It wasn't worth his head or cock to kill this simple fuck. "He is still being shown off to the Roman women then is he?" Varro tilts his head.

"Is that what you think they're doing?" Crixus sees him clench his fists. "Looking at him? Admiring his clear skin and" he rolls his eyes "buldging muscles?" He asks sarcastically. Crixus smirks.

"I forget the two of you aren't as familiar as the rest of us with the way Lucretia and Batiatus plot and scheme." Varro frowns while Crixus settles onto his bed leaning against the wall looking smug.

"And what is the procedure then?" Varro asks with a scowl. Crixus hums as if debating on whether or not he was going to answer.

"They will not request anything of him yet. It is simply to...early." Varro slowly sits on the chest he occupied only hours earlier. 

"Explain." Crixus scoffs simple fuck felt entitled to an explanation right off the back.

"What do I get in return?" Varro's mouth opens and closes at a loss. Crixus knows his situation. Knows he has nothing but blood and flesh to offer. The blond sighs heavily bowing his head.

"What would you have of me?" He asks defeated. 

 

 

The door was closed but Varro stilled worried about the amount of noise they were making. It was difficult to focus on it however as Crixus gripped his hair by the roots. The amount of force he was using threatening to yank the curls free of his skull. 

"Careful you in heat bitch!" He snaps twisting the marble toy harshly. Crixus shouts at the new angle wrapping his legs around Varro's waist.

"Then keep mind on current task or see yourself unsatisfied." Crixus warns fisting his and Varro's cocks together with enough pressure to have the taller man jerk his hips forward. 

"Gods fuck, what the hell did Barca teach you?" Varro asks through gritted teeth. Crixus laughs his head hitting the wall. 

"Perhaps I will show you everything one day. For now," he pushes down onto the dildo with a moan, "speed up you ass." Varro chuckles happily complying to the request. 

Words were lost to the two of them while they busied themselves with each other. Crixus was panting heavily his head resting in the crook of Varro's neck. He was loosing rhythm as Varro smacked and massaged the one ass cheek he could reach. His other hand thrusting the marble in and out of the Gaul as fast as he could. Crixus mumbles something too incoherently for Varro to make out, but he takes it as encouragement, especially when Crixus turns his head and bites him his hips bucking slightly as he coated Varro's chest. It surprised him that it was practically clear. 

"Fuck!" Varro swears when Crixus's hand stops. Rather reluctantly he slowed his down before carefully removing the marble shaft. Crixus smirks with a shaky laugh. 

"At the very least I will answer your question." Varro curses some more as Crixus untangles himself and starts clean up. 

"Very well." He grumbles dressing with a hiss. Crixus nods in understanding. 

"Lucretia is probably planning on using him for everyone of the little friends Ilythia has brought with her. Whichever one will pay the most shall receive him first. Should they be plied towards having him in their bed." He explains as if it was no big deal. 

Varro gaps at him in shock and horror. There was nothing else to ask he nods a thanks and numbly wanders back out to the common area. Raskos offers him the dice pointing out his sour mood. His cock twitches in agitation reminding him of part of the reason he was in a mood. Scowling he nods and sits down with the rest of them patiently waiting for the Champions return.

  _Like a good little bitch_. He thinks to himself.


	13. Three Doors No Key

He was walking on air after leaving Lucretia. Naevia did not spurn his affection. True she scolded him for openly looking at her how he did; but he was honest. He couldn't help it. As of late she was haunting his dreams. His heart beat faster when she was near, or even in sight. The past few times he was with Lucretia he's even had to fantasized about the exotic beauty to be able to finish. The small touch she gave him and that absolutely beautiful smile she had blessed him with was certainly going to help next time. Everything was going his way. He grins as he downs the last of his drink rounding the corner into his cell. 

Just for his mood to plummet, his cock rising faster than should be possible. 

Spartacus turns and jumps up looking worried at the dark glare he receives. Crixus grips the pouch that held his drink desperatly. Everything in him wanted to kiss away the fear and concern in the Thracian's eyes. The fucking cunt. It should be Naevia and Naevia  **alone** that makes him feel this way. 

"I seek no quarrel!" He blurts out.

"Your presence here would state otherwise!" Crixus snaps at him taking a step forward tossing the drink holder. Spartacus sighs,

"We've had our differences. I own my part in them." He sates firmly, as if that makes up for everything, "Yet if we are to defeat Theokeles-" An image of Spartacus dead by somebody else's hands flashes through his mind and a panic like he's never felt before grips him,

"We?!" He interrupts, "There is no such thing in the arena." He warns darkly. Spartacus glances him up and down, barely containing a smirk.

"You believe, you can slay the giant?" Crixus doesn't miss the humor in his voice. "Alone?" The Thracian dog has never even seen the Shadow fight before. Only recently learned of his damned existence. Yet thinks the monster a better fighter than Crixus.  

"As I have always stand."

"This time you do not." Spartacus reminds him never backing down. Crixus ignores the sudden urge to just pull the bastard down on top of him, battle for dominance in an entirely different way, one he hasn't had in an embarrassingly long time. Instead he informs the simple fuck;

"When Theokeles falls, the victory will be mine." He says confidently. There was barely two inches between them. A wrong tilt of the head and they would be touching. 

"And if we do not come to common ground," Spartacus retorts as if he was unaffected by their close proximity, "the death shared, shall be ours." Crixus nearly laughs at him. The notion alone was ridiculous. Before he could ask if there was something else the Thracian wanted, Spartacus walks off, leaving Crixus hard, furious and wanting.

Crixus curses himself, and his bodies desires. His heart belongs to Naevia he knows this. Technically his body belonged to Batiatus and by extension Lucretia. His bone, blood, and flesh belonged in the arena. His mind wasn't even supposed to be his own.  Yet every which way he found himself torn. Spending time alone with Spartacus was no longer an option he decides. The more he does, the more he finds himself pulled towards the Thracian, and whatever the man would want from him. Scowling Crixus readies for bed knowing he has a long day of training in the morning. Since his interest in Naevia has started spiraling him out of control, there would be neither Barca or Pietros to help de-stress after the baths and evening meal. At own request like an idiot. Sighing he forces sleep to come.

 

 

He was correct. The days training was one filled with humiliation, anger, and defeat. Doctore was never once open. Crixus has never felt like such a fool; even as a recruit. The amount of times he was on his back. He glares to himself as he scrapes off some of the dirt. He was sore. Something he hadn't been in over a year. Blame was obviously on Spartacus. Thracian moron. He refuses to turn around and even acknowledge him. If he hadn't kept getting in the way, maybe he could have at least gotten a hit in. Or more. Like usual the dumb-ass wanted to talk.

"How are we to fare against Theokeles?" Crixus makes a face as he glances to where Spartacus was sitting, cleaning himself off as well, "when we cannot even best Doctore?" Crixus feels his pride flare at the insult, and insinuation. 

"I could have bested him a dozen times," He glares over his shoulder, "if you hadn't gotten underfoot." He could have been mistaken but he thought he saw Spartacus glance down at his rear in interest. Now was not the time to delve into matters which he may or may not remember. 

"I take the sands  _beside_ you in this fight, Crixus." Spartacus sounded exasperated. As if Crixus was the one being stupid he ached for a reason to show the Thracian who was in charge. His rising cock agreed, making him hesitate to turn around.

"Just because you stand beside me in the arena with sword and shield in hand, do  **not** mistake yourself for a gladiator." He said passionately. 

  _You can get yourself killed that way_ He thinks nervously to himself. His cock was softening slightly giving him enough room to turn slightly, "I fight to  _honor_ these walls;  **you** fight to LEAVE them!" Crixus spits at him, surprised at how the thought of Spartacus leaving hurt. With much more bravado than a naked man should have, Spartacus stands up,

"You fight," He pauses to take a sigh, all the anger leaving him, "because you are a slave." Spartacus sounded like he was taking pity on Crixus, as if he needed to explain this to a child. "Like me." Definitely pity. Furious Crixus throws down his strigil down turning around fully at last. 

"No!" Crixus's voice was loud enough to echo. "Not like you." Everyone else in the baths was staring now, unsure on whether or not to intervene. "I accept my place here." He informs pacing like an angry animal. "I embrace it. But you," Crixus puts as much disdain in his voice as he can, "still dream of a life beyond the arena. With that wife we've all heard about still nestled at your side." It infuriated him to have Spartacus turn away slightly at the mention of his woman. As if it was painful to talk about her. A little bit of the fight leaves him as he takes a step forward. "And that is all it is Spartacus," Saying his name gained his attention again. "A dream. And one day soon you will have to awaken to the truth." 

He could see the way Spartacus was breathing heavily. Controlling his anger. Being more than just the cock sure animal he was a month ago. His heart went out to the simple fuck a little. It truly did. Crixus has been a slave since before he could hold a sword. Pretty much his entire life. Spartacus was free for twice that amount. He knows how difficult it could be for those who don't adjust quickly. Maybe if he explained it softly? Blinking, Crixus frowns hating the way Spartacus makes him feel so...weak. Soft. Gentle. A man should feel like that towards his  _heart_. Towards Naevia. So;

"You will never leave this place," He had Spartacus's full attention. "And your wife," He couldn't help the venom in his voice at the term thinking of Lucretia, "if she's not dead already, has been  _fucked_ to  **madness** by a hundred Roman cocks!" He emphasizes loudly. That made him snap. The two grapple after Spartacus throws them over the bench, holding Crixus by the neck. They rolled too far and fell off the bench. Spartacus smacks his head on the stone floor, but Crixus wouldn't give him time to recover. Spartacus instinctively has his legs up, ready to wrap around Crixus' waist. Crixus could feel himself hardening against the jut of Spartacus's hip. He scrambles backwards a little and works on strangling the source of his slow decent into madness. Unable to do this, Crixus tries to head-butt the fuck, suppressing a groan when he realizes this does nothing much than just thrusting himself against Spartacus and hurting each other's nose. Spartacus grunts wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rolling so he was pinning Crixus down. He managed to get a good punch. An obvious payback for the head-butt. Crixus catches the second punch, more from luck than anything. Deviously he pushes his thigh up against Spartacus's cock, a thrill shooting up his spine at the heat coming from it. Instead of moaning or stealing a kiss like he wanted Crixus lets out a frustrated shout rolling them around to get the upper hand. He was close enough to hear the whimper Spartacus unwillingly lets slip from his lips. Slightly panicked he covers Spartacus's mouth willing his erection to remove itself from the picture.

Crixus was able to hold them in place, but before he was able to do anything else, two large hands were yanking him backwards into a standing position. There was no hesitation following the silent orders from Doctore as they watched Spartacus right himself. Spartacus's cock bobbed slightly, practically begging for Crixus's attention. His mouth thins glancing at it before glaring disapprovingly at Spartacus. Doctore folds his arms like he does when Crixus does something stupid or explaining something to one of the house slaves. Spartacus stares at Crixus panting slightly, disbelief and hurt clear as day on his face. Doctore rolls his eyes.

"Get yourselves cleaned up." He glances harshly at Crixus as if this was all his fault, "Domina requests your presence. Both of you." Spartacus walks away first, leaving Crixus to suffer through the stink eye from his teacher. 

 

It wasn't much later that Spartacus stands stock still next to him. The Thracian in chains, the Gaul free of the cuffs. Crixus does his best not to sneer at the simpleton. It was obvious he was confused and nervous. The two Roman women in front of them could sense that. The blonde woman looked as a snake ready to snatch up its dinner. Keeping his eyes forward Crixus does what he can to convey to Naevia that he's happy to see her. If he was honest he was just happy in general. Having to work side by side with the Thracian aside; he was going to face Theokeles! The Shadow of Death. And what a victory it will be when the Undefeated Gaul takes off his fucking head. Crixus shifts forcing himself not to smile at the thought of having to save Spartacus's life. The mutt would probably be grateful and after his wounded pride healed would do anything to show appreciation. His cock gives a twitch of interest at the idea. Chiding himself he focuses noticing Lucretia's guest was asking Spartacus a question.

"Speak." Lucretia instructs Spartacus when he remains silent. The smaller man sighs glancing between the women.

"I have seen you." He straightens his shoulders a wave of anger obviously coursing through him if the roll of his shoulders were an indication, "With Legatus  _Glaber_." The hatred and disdain was not missed in his voice. 

"I am his wife." Illythia proudly claims. Spartacus should thank the gods Crixus was the only one to hear the snort he gave in response. "He is regrettably abroad, and will not get the chance to witness your death at against Theokeles." She was walking towards him, the dress she wore barely contained her breast, and even Crixus had issues keeping his eyes averted. It amused him to see the eye roll from Naevia and the slight disgust from Lucretia. If he has learned nothing from the past few years, is that women were just as eager for sex as men. Some more so. It was obvious to him that the young blonde was attracted to Spartacus, (and himself obviously) but the Thracian did more than just wet her cunt. Perhaps it was because he spurned her husband?

"But," She continues stepping in between Crixus and Spartacus, her back facing him. Crixus momentarily worries for her life the rage barely contained behind Spartacus's blue yes. "I shall whisper of it to him. Replaying, the moment," Crixus notices Naevia avert her gaze and Lucretia smirk. She out right disliked Spartacus, and for good reason, but there was no hidden lust or desire. No kindness towards the man. "When we are entwined in our bed." From the corner of his eye he could see her look the Thracian up and down before his head tilted to meet her gaze. This would not end well if it did not come to climax soon. 

As it was, Crixus had never been happier to see Batiatus rounding a corner. A look of confusion and wariness upon his face. Lucretia fans herself lazily looking nervous while Crixus and the Dominus share a look. Spartacus needed to leave the room immediately. The two of them understood the issues that would arise should anything happen between the Thracian and Glaber's bitch of a wife. 

"Apologies. I require the Thracian for a moment." Illythia's hand falls from where she was about to trace the curve of Spartacus's arm. 

"Extend it by a life time." Spartacus pulls head from ass, and lifts his gaze from her chest to stare at the wall. "I am done with him." With a snap of his fingers Batiatus has the guards escort Spartacus to his office. 

"The Champion of Capua." He nods impressed and when she looks away gives a sympathetic look towards Crixus. "A rare honor, to receive a private audience."  She glances up at Batiatus before going back to openly staring at the Gaul.

"One I am  _most_ appreciative of." Batiatus nods his smile forced as he looks at Crixus. "Although," Everyone tenses at her tone of voice, "he does seem...a touch  _overdressed_ for the occasion." Crixus saw the fury in Lucretia's eyes as Illythia reclines backwards, Naevia's eyes widen glancing between the three Roman's and Crixus. This was not going to end well. Batiatus looks annoyed but he turns to the Champion. 

"Your subligaria; remove it." He orders. With a small glance at Naevia Crixus does as he's told. While Illythia ogles with a gasp and a giggle he contemplates. Barely registers what she or Batiatus says before the Dominus leaves. What was he to say if any of them questioned his half erect cock? Which lie should he choose? That it was Illythia alone? That'll end in death. Does he say it was for Lucretia alone? That'll end with Batiatus learning of the affair and the cutting off of his appendage. Then death. Does he go for a quick death and say it was for Naevia alone? Perhaps he'll only be thrown from the cliffs if he says it was for the three of them. Or a variation? Just the Roman women might earn him a whip lash and nothing more for, "being a man helpless to his desire for tits and cunt" as he was once called. Shit she was walking towards him. 

Nervously he tries to will his cock to go back down. The reason for its rising wasn't even present. Guilt nags at him when he glances at Naevia. It should have risen for her. And if he thought about it for more than half a second it would. Double the time for Lucretia, perhaps. Crixus all but winces when Illythia places a hand on his shoulder. Her life was going to be hell if she kept it up. His flesh pebbled slightly when her breath ghosts the back of his neck. 

"His skin is hard." She whispers circling him, placing a hand on his shoulder in admiration, "like marble." Of course she had to compare it to that. Crixus swallows thickly the image of the last time he was with Barca and Pietros jumping into his mind. He makes a mental note to ask to borrow it for a while.  Illythia started caressing his forearm still talking more to herself than anyone else. "Were that  _every_ man were carved so..." Her voice trails as a hand falls on his hip. Her touch was warm but it felt like ice on his soul. Crixus forces himself to stand still, only daring to clench his jaw, finding it ironic that his cock remained persistent. Blood lust. He shall blame it on that. His luck seemed to be improving as Lucretia sets her fan down and sits up.

"We'd best not keep him." Crixus knows her well enough to hear the underlined rage. Illythia might not survive whatever revenge scheme was being plotted against her. "His training resumes at first light." She states with a polite smile. Crixus shifts ever so slightly at the reminder. Illythia pauses her stroking glancing up at his face.

"Do you think he will survive against the Shadow?" Her curiosity reminded him of her youth, as did the way her hands traced his wrist, as if the only man she's ever been with was her husband. Lucretia stiffens at the question, the pride on her face shining bright as she smiled at Crixus. 

"Only the gods know."

"It would be a pity to see such a man marred." Something about the way Lucretia looked up made Crixus uneasy. Illythia kept her palm open on his shoulder her mouth not even an inch away from his skin. 

"Perhaps there is a way to see such a tragedy averted." Crixus glances repeatedly at her, feeling his heart rise into his throat. His battle against Theokeles was going to be his crowning achievement! Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, Slayer of the Shadow of Death! To be feared and remembered throughout history! "If your father, were to speak to the magistrate perhaps-"

"To what end?" Illythia interrupts. Crixus's heart was pounding. He couldn't speak unless told. Yet here was his moment slipping from his grasp, and there was nothing he could do to stop it! Spartacus would probably fight with that simpleton Varro, and get himself killed! And Crixus? Would he replace someone else in the games? Or just not fight? Slipping into the shadows like some sort of Syrian? Alone and forgotten?

"To seeing Crixus replaced in the games." Lucretia says like it would solve all of her problems. Crixus's mouth thins into a tight line. 

"Is that what you want?" Illythia asks him, draping herself onto his arm. "Do you  **fear** entering the arena with Theokeles?" She questions. Naevia looks up at him, eye full of hope and longing, and what he hopes was love. Lucretia stares at him, her affection and worry  _actually_ making him hesitate. All the lies he was debating on earlier...nothing was easier to say than the truth. Something he suddenly vows to only speak the truth to Naevia. No false words. Not for her. She deserves more than that. 

"I long for it." He answers firmly staring at the wall. Crixus sees the hurt on Naevia's face, and feels sad about causing it. But it was better than having a lie eat him alive. 

"As I  _long_ to see it." Illythia states, the blood lust unmasked in her statement. 

 

The next day was a blur. No time to settle his thoughts. All he could do was keep an eye on the Thracian and make sure he didn't get himself killed or injured before the games. Besides a conversation with Ashur, the man seemed to keep out of trouble. Spartacus glanced back at him. When his heart soared Crixus glared at him, without averting his gaze. It wasn't until they were the only two left in the baths that they had a chance to talk one on one. Crixus kept his back to him, and as usual, the stupid cunt was the first to talk. 

"You were right." He admitted, shocking Crixus a little. "I do not honor these walls." He explains himself further turning to look at the Gaul. Crixus wrings his hands together reminding himself he was trying  _not_ to spend alone time with the Thracian dog. Instead of getting up and leaving like he should, Crixus snorts.

"A fact well known." Spartacus sighs.

"Has it always been so for you? When you were brought here for the first time? Against your will?" Crixus briefly closes his eyes and remembers that day in the market place. "Your  _life_ traded for a few coin?" Seeing Batiatus, and his chance to be  _more_ than just a simple house slave. More than just... he huffs.

"More than a few." He briefly recalls hearing Lucretia complain about the amount he was bought for. Ironic now. 

"Is that your worth then?" Spartacus's voice was filled with displeasure. Crixus sits up straight, thinking about the past. His current situation...Naevia. Her smile. A flash of Spartacus writhing under him forces its way past all of that. 

"Has it ever occurred to you, why the great  _Theokeles_ would grace us with his presence?" From where he sat, Crixus could hear the small laugh. Could just imagine the smug smile on the Thracian's face. Traitorous cock of his. 

"The promise of wealth?" Crixus makes a face, and musters up all of the patience he could. Treat him like a house slave. He advises himself. 

"The Shadow has earned a thousand fortunes." Spartacus glances at him, "He comes here not for coin." Crixus makes a face of contempt. "He comes here, for the  _glory_ of facing the Champion of Capua." A weight settles onto his chest, thinking about this. The Shadow comes for him. To kill him. And...Crixus isn't sure he stands much of a chance. "The Undefeated Gaul." He says, for the first time not liking the name. It felt like a jest at the moment. He could feel Spartacus staring at him. Trying to read him. Crixus wishes he could put their differences aside. Prayed to the gods that maybe he could take comfort in the Thracian. Let his fear bleed out....but then Spartacus would think him weak. Try to take on the Shadow alone: and end up  **dead**. 

"Glory." He whispers after a moment. Crixus knows Spartacus doesn't believe in to coming from the arena. Crixus keeps his voice level and calm.

"There is no greater thing, than standing victorious in the arena."  For once Spartacus seems to be genuinely trying to understand this instead of scoffing or mocking.  

"Is there no purpose beyond the blood?" There was no hostility, nor smugness in the question. He wanted to know. Crixus stares at him over his shoulder. "No dream beyond cheering crowd?" Spartacus started to look worried, "Is there  _nothing_ else you fight for?"

Naevia was the first face that swims into his mind. Her smile, and her kindness, the very thought warming his heart. Then, it changed to Barca and Pietros, it didn't surprise him that they were one in the same. He could not feel for one without feeling for the other. The relief he feels when Barca comes back from his outings with Batiatus is equal to Pietros's. The two had shared countless moments murmuring their happiness that they survived another fight. A brief flash of Lucretia, her concern from yesterday marking a change in their relationship. Then of course; Spartacus. So innocent, and yet so battle hardened. Kind, and stubborn. Impossible, and logical. Maddening, and irresistible. And then of course; the Celt. Even _thinking_ his name made his soul burn with longing. An ache that was caused by purely missing the blond fuck. That smile, his laugh. Crixus felt his throat tighten up. He wanted to tell Spartacus, at least about Naevia. About someone, or something. How he feels, his fear...but before anything comes out a guard steps in.

"Crixus. You are summoned." Crixus walks away without a word instead. 

Naevia wouldn't say a word to him. He tried once, to figure out why she seemed upset. But, it seems she wasn't in the talking mood. Lucretia must have something special planned for tonight. The moon was their only light, which worried him. Once before she tried to have them sleep together while Batiatus was sleeping. It didn't work. Namely because Crixus was so concerned about discovery that he couldn't keep it up. Most embarrassing performance of his life. 

"Step into the light." She says from behind the curtain. Crixus sighs stepping forward. "I would gaze upon the Champion of Capua." 

It took all of five minutes to convince Lucretia that he didn't want to do this tonight. He had to give her a bullshit lie about wanting to stay focused. Guilt hit him when she looked so...crest fallen. There was something about this encounter that she or Naevia wasn't telling him. It made him uneasy. Plus, his talk with Spartacus weighed heavy on his mind. Did he fight for something else? Regardless, he wasn't going to be able to please Lucretia. When she sent him away, he almost stopped when he heard her start crying. Instead he followed Naevia back down. He had to figure out what was wrong. 

Turns out he didn't have to press. She grabs his arm looking desperate. 

"You are going to die tomorrow aren't you?" The fact that she wasn't sure he would survive hurt his pride. 

"Only the gods divine the future." He mutters instead of being mad. How was he supposed to be angry at her for something he himself thought and felt? There were tears in her eyes as she questions him.

"Why didn't you let Illythia help you? She could have spoken to her father!" Crixus sighs, wishing he could take away her pain and worry. 

"To what end? Humiliation?" Crixus knows he has every reason to be nervous, but to express such would only be seen as cowardice. 

"Honor and glory." Naevia's voice shook, as a tear fell, "That's all you care about isn't it?" She asks glancing down before looking back up at him Spartacus's question burns in his mind. Crixus's heart breaks when he realizes he's made her cry. His own eyes well up as he wipes it away. 

"Not all." He admits, wondering why it was so hard to say that to Spartacus. But so easy to say to her. She intertwines their fingers pulling gently, drawing him in. He was helpless to resist, as her hand held his tightly. 

"Still the fool." 

"Still." He agrees. The push past some linen as he presses her against the wall placing a heavy kiss to her lips. She pauses pushing back. 

"You said love drains a man." His heart was beating fast, as his cock hardens against her thigh. 

"It can give him hope, in the right arms." Crixus allows himself to be lost in her embrace. Her hands explored tentatively, always eager. They were still new to each other's flesh. The way she quietly moaned when he slipped two fingers into her cunt had him shivering. If it wasn't for the fact that they had to be quiet, he would have been faster. She quickly became impatient if the leg wrapping around his waist was any indication. Naevia had to hide her face in his neck to keep from shouting when Crixus spreads her legs holding her up by the back of her thighs as if she weighed nothing and slides into her wet heat. She was still so tight, and briefly he worried that he was going to hurt her. Naevia chased those worries away when she started gripping his ass and pulling insistently. Crixus angled himself better his hips jerking quickly having Naevia clench around his cock. He wishes all his fears could be alleviated this way. She started whispering his name in rapid session as she reaches her climax. Crixus moans softly as he quickly follows suit. The two of them pant together slightly before they right themselves.

"Crixus." She starts.

"Do not worry. All will be well." He whispers ghosting a kiss across her lips before walking to his cell. Never, out loud, to himself, or to anyone, would he admit to seeing Gannicus's smiling face when he came. Crixus's heart breaks, hoping beyond hope that the Celt will hear of this victory and be proud. 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Door Number One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, lust, or something more. Crixus knows exactly who and what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while and there will be more chapters on this, I.E door numbers two and three later on. But the next few chapters is basically Crixus ass appreciation. I hope you enjoy thank you guys so much for the comments kudos and plot bunnies! Happy Thanksgiving!

"Another showing?" Lucretia mutters the words back to Illythia. The blonde smiles brightly at her from her perch. They had just discussed Lucretia making arrangements for Illythia to  _bed_ Crixus. The Lanista's wife has already started plotting about how to discourage this without seeming to. It should be easy. Discreetly send a message to Glaber making note that wife misses him but was too proud to admit it. Or perhaps her father. She knows how much Illythia wishes to return to Rome. 

"Yes. I think it will be delightful. Some," There was a slight pause as the younger woman ponders for the correct word. " _foreplay_ as it were." She giggles delightedly as her choice. Lucretia smiles politely. 

"Very well." She turns to Naevia and nods, solemnly. Her body slave's mouth thins obviously displeased by this. The girl was such a loyal and trusted friend. Lucretia smiles fondly watching the stiff back walk away. At least she could confide in her later. 

 

 

"Crixus. You are summoned." Crixus and Varro share confused looks. Batiatius was currently talking to Spartacus upstairs. Crixus himself only barely healed, and everyone a little heated over Segovax's attempt on the Thracian's life. Dropping his spoon with more sass than necessary, Crixus moves to follow the guard. Varro reaches up grabbing his arm to hold him back for a moment. Crixus glares down at him, not liking being restrained outside the bedroom.

"Be cautious. I've heard Lucretia's in a mood of late." Crixus grimaces and nods. It never ends well for him when she is. Carefully he walks through the gates, unsurprised to see Naevia waiting. Unsurprised but still elated. 

"It is good to see you again so soon." He tells her quietly so as not to be heard. She smiles tightly at him. Not a good sign.

"As it is you." She whispers back. "Be cautious. It is not Domina who summons." Crixus frowns looking at her. That made no sense.

"Yet you retrieve?" Naevia pauses at the top of the steps, shocking him by kissing his forehead momentarily. Risky, not something she does during the day.

"It is Glaber's wife. Illythia. And what she wants sours Domina's mood. I understand men do not have much control over their cocks, but for your sake try." Crixus makes a face as she continues scurrying off. What in the fucking gods name did that mean? Twice as confused he follows, managing a quick grip of her hand as he passes. A reassurance. He will once again remind her that he is NOT like other men. Illythia and Lucretia were lounging on some chairs, much like they were nights before his fight with Theokeles. Crixus suppresses a grimace at the thought of his defeat. Illythia downs her wine as he steps in between them standing still, and awaiting orders. Lucretia looks furious, something Glaber's bitch seems to not notice. Rude. 

"Remove your cloth." Illythia tells him shortly. Crixus spares at glance at Domina before nodding, and swiftly doing as he was told. Illythia preens, standing up to circle him. "Even with such horrid scars, he still stands a god." Lucretia folds her arms.

"Yes, he does." Crixus doesn't miss the haughty tone. Illythia hums in appreciation as she walks around him. Crixus twitches slightly when her hand ghosts across one of his buttocks. 

"I have never seen," She pauses to pat gently at the other cheek. "a man's ass, so..." Illythia's voice was breathless as she used both hands to squeeze him. "perfect." Crixus grimaces his eyes going between Naevia and Lucretia. His cock, thankfully, remained uninterested but he was aware about how both women were. Possessive. 

With difficulty, Crixus let Lucretia think he stares at the back wall, while his gaze remains focused on Naevia. Her concern shown in her eyes, and her displeasure about this showed in the way her shoulder's set. He remembers the other day, having her. Holding her close. The way she was overly eager to please. Crixus almost smiles at the memory, but Illythia gave another squeeze letting him recall where he was and how his face should be. Straightening his shoulders he tried to portray to Naevia his thoughts, while keeping his dick under control. Easier than he thought it would be considering his train of thoughts. It was strange how the memory of their time together did not quicken his pulse like a certain mad dog's did. Crixus clenches his hands into fists for a second while Illythia rubbed circles on his ass mumbling about being carved from the gods. 

"Illythia?" Lucretia asks after Glaber's wife stays silent for a moment. Crixus makes a face as she places her chin on his shoulder to look at Lucretia over it. Her hands have yet to leave his ass, and he was over it. Barca and Pietros repeatedly in the past remarked on how it was his best feature. Even though it was said as a compliment Crixus has always found it insulting.  _Women_ have marvelous backsides. Not men. He pushes the thought of Spartacus out of his head and studies Naevia. 

"Has he ever been with a woman before?" Illythia asks smiling her laughter barely contained. Crixus looks at Lucretia slightly horrified. He  **has** to lie in this instance, otherwise risk all. Lucretia fans herself irritated and motions for Crixus to answer.

"Speak."

"I have lain with a woman." He states truthfully. Lucretia nods, satisfied with it. Naevia rolls her eyes.

"And did you love her?" Illythia asks, her question more loaded than the first. Lucretia raises an eyebrow looking at Crixus. He takes a moment to think about it. It was something he was sure about, but how to word it carefully. Crixus could feel his heart hammering, trying to do this quickly without raising too much suspicion. Lucretia is bound to be furious if he says no, but it would also be a lie since he's lain with Naevia and she holds his heart. So saying no will piss her off too. But saying yes, then well, Lucretia will be happy and Naevia will just think he said it to appease Domina and that he didn't mean Naevia herself! Why did women have to complicate things? He had hoped to discuss this with Naevia at great length, but no time soon. Sighing deeply he glances at Illythia, the simple bitch who started this cluster fuck. 

"A goddess holds my heart. One day I hope she will hold my child." What else was there to say? The past few nights he's dreamt of little else besides Naevia, belly swollen with child, already carrying one in her arms with him by his side. His vow of truth held, and all three women look content. Lucretia even had a tear in her eye, her body slave looked stunned.

"Does she mind? What I have planned for you?" Her nails rake across the back of his thighs around the curve of his cheeks and settling on the dimples that lay on his lower back. Crixus looks between the other two. 

"I imagine she will be," Illythia giggles smacking his ass with more force than he imagined she could have before she grabs his arm tugging him down closer to her.

"It shall be our secret then." It wasn't a whisper. Lucretia fans herself faster while Naevia turns away to hide her face. Crixus gives a strained smile. It was funny in an ironic way. However, it was dangerous as well. Keeping this up any longer and Lucretia was sure to snap. 

"He should resume his training. Having been out of the arena for so long he's going to need it." Crixus winces at the harsh tone of her voice, but more so at the demeaning words. They cut to close to home. Closer than he was comfortable with. Surely his recovery time left a gap between his skills and Spartacus's. Something to be rectified soon. Illythia rambles on about something as Crixus dresses and follows Naevia down. Once out of sight of the others he reaches forward his heart swelling at the simple contact. She beams up at him, placing a quick kiss to his lips. 

"You are such a  _stupid_ man." Crixus grins kissing her quickly.

"I am ever the fool." He kisses her once again. "For you." Naevia shakes her head a tear falling down her face.

"You speak of children? Did you truly compare me to a goddess?" She was crying, but she was smiling. Something Crixus was learning she did when overcome with joy. His heart was always so full of such strong emotion. They make their way down the stairs a little to make way for a passing guard. 

"You  **are** a goddess. The only one to hold my heart." Gannicus's face flashes through his head, quickly followed by Spartacus. Naevia turns to look up at him with a small gasp when he grabs her wrist. Crixus smiles down at her cupping the side of her face. "The  _only_ " He says with all of his conviction. Shaking her head a little holding his hand to her skin for a moment Naevia hums happily.  

"Go you foolish man. Before we are discovered." She pushes him slightly, with no force or heat behind it.

"Will I see you tonight?" He asks, feeling more like a child than the man she believes him to be. A quick kiss as they finish descending the stairs. 

"I will try." Naevia watches the guard lock the gate behind him before she scurries off to continue attending Lucretia. Illythia was leaving soon, as the sun was setting faster. Lucretia was certainly going to be in a mood after this visit. Crixus smiles after her feeling happier than he ever had. His grin widens when he remembers he wasn't even the current champion. Naevia definitely held his heart. Entirely, completely, and only. 

"Spartacus! Pair with Duro." Crixus grimaces turning around. 

"Only." He mutters to himself retaking the sands. 


	15. One Heart Two Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barca and his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've got a cold, my son has an ear infection and I was busy with some school work. However there's going to be at least two chapters this week! Thank you guys again for your comments and kudos and plot bunnies! They mean so much to me!

When Batiatus was done having them stroke Spartacus's cock as it were, Barca makes his way to the medicus to check on Crixus. His heart aches seeing his friend and lover in such pain and torment covered in blood as he was. His breath stops when he even  _thinks_ about how this happened to him. Watching from the sidelines was the worst thing he has ever done. Barca shivers in horror and disgust when he remembers the child's neck snapping under his grasp. One of. One of the worst things he has ever done. His shoulders felt heavy and he knows without fail that he was going to have to leave this place. But...he sighs instructing the medicus out.

"If he wakes or starts a fit then fetch me." Barca nods and sits on the stool next to the Gaul.

"I'm conflicted old friend..." He whispers not even sure if Crixus can hear him or not. But the guilt, the weight of his actions was too much to leave unsaid. 

"Batiatus's schemes become more dire. More...bloody. My hands are already stained in a way that they can never be clean again. I will one day have to admit my sin to Pietros and I fear he will turn from me when I do." A silent pause. One he very much expected. Barca lets his eyes roam across Crixus for a moment worried about the deepness of some of the wounds. 

"You yourself will have a turned stomach once you've learned. The way you look at me...with pride, admiration," Barca chuckles leaning forward resting his arms on his knees and supporting his chin on his hands, "with desire and carnal lust...I treasure those looks. Your eyes are certainly a mirror of your soul Crixus." A deep sigh, "And they will change. My dark deeds will forever be reflected in those pools of yours and it will haunt me in a third way."

Barca licks his lips feeling himself start to shake slightly. Having Crixus's friendship and yes his body too, was something he loved. It was a gift from the gods and because of his station he has done something so awful, that it will be forever stained. Barca swallows hard feeling tears spring to his eyes. He has to take a couple of deep breathes to calm himself. Never has he claimed to have liked Batiatus, but it was clear as day now how much Barca  _hated_ the mad man. The image of the boy flows into his mind and he couldn't help the choked sob that escapes him.

"I've been made into the worst kind of monster. And it is something I will never forgive....I won a large sum of money from Ashur. I take no pleasure in earning it through your pain." Barca closes his eyes gripping his hands tightly together. "I'd give anything to be in your place. To take your pain away....but I cannot. And I cannot stay here a moment longer than I need. I am going to speak to Dominus about buying my and Pietros's freedom." Barca's stomach threatens to give way at the thought of leaving Crixus behind.

"Were you awake I would beg and plead for you to move to do the same. To come with us perhaps. The three of us could move off to the hills and become goat farmers. Pietros already knows how to milk them and we could kill off any wolves, or boar that threatens." Barca smiles opening his eyes and lazily watching Crixus's face. It was strained. With pain, distress, worry, tears, the beginnings of a fever he thinks. Barca feels a tear slide down his own face. "But you will not. Part I know is because the Arena has been your goal and your life blood for many years. Part I know is because the idea of being domestic scares you." He laughs softly reaching out and running his hand through Crixus's hair. His fingers came back red. Barca swallows another sob.

"And now of course there is Naevia. Someone to at last have your heart and soul. I hope you and she find great happiness and peace brother. I must find the Syrian now, even if I have to cut off his cock, the cripple will pay what he owes.....if I am gone before you awaken know that it is with a heavy heart. To be taking Pietros with me as well, as you know I'd rather part with my _own_ cock than leave him behind." He admits before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. There was a twitch, but otherwise no response. "Try and get along with Spartacus. I hear rumor Batiatus found his wife. Also that fuck Varro might be a substitute for Pietros. I wish you the best, my friend." Barca lets out a shaky breath before going to find Ashur and confronting him. He needed his coin. 

 

 

 

 

"You drown me!" Pietros laughs after Barca dumps a cup over his head. Much deserved for the teasing way the brat sat on his lap. Grinding down as if his life depended on it. 

"In more than just wine!" He calls over the noise earning a laugh. It was music to his ears. Barca beams into a kiss his heart soaring. Soon they will be free. Free of this fucking house, and it would be just the two of them for the rest of their days. Days filled with love, laughter and sweet kisses like this. 

"Pietros, you are summoned."  Barca frowns, feeling sorry for his little lover. If it was in the middle of their celebration it wasn't going to be anything good. Barca smiles moving to his cell for a moment. Nodding to himself he digs out a cloth bag. It was heavy with its contents and the thought of the beloved marble toy made him chuckle. Where he and Pietros were going it was not going to be needed. Perhaps one day he will confess to Crixus that he broke his vow to Auctus and was submissive to his boy. Never to his face of course. A letter once they were settled in. Still smiling Barca moves to Crixus's empty cell and secrets the bag inside the chest he was allowed. It saddened him to see all that occupied the chest were different subligaculum and some towels but nothing more. When freed he and Pietros were going to send Crixus all kinds of things. Trinkets and what not. If he thought Crixus had the mind or the patience he would leave him the birds. Barca laughs loudly as he makes his way back to the party refilling his cup. 

He was busy laughing at the misfortune of those stupid enough to wager coin on dice. He tossed wine onto Rhaskos when someone turned him around. Barca was almost knocked to the ground by the sheer force of Pietros's kiss. 

"Whoa, what did the Dominus require?" This felt almost like an apology.

"Nothing of import." But, Pietros was preening. His eyes glittering happily his smile wide as he pressed his lips against Barca's once more. He wanted to know what happened, and what Batiatus wanted, however he supposes it could wait. Who was he to turn his lover's happy mood sour?

"You kiss with purpose." He accuses knowing exactly where a kiss like that would lead. 

"For the thought of freedom!" Pietros admits clasping his hands to either side of Barca's face. The Beast of Carthage hums his cock stirring past the wine. It was going to be one of those rare nights where he submitted to Pietros's will. He could feel it with the way they were beginning to intertwine. And then he heard the Syrian clear his fucking throat. Both men turn to glare at Ashur for daring to disturb them.

"A word if I may?"

"Fuck your words." Barca wraps an arm around Pietros's shoulder fiddling with his hair. "Unless coupled with coin." 

"The very matter I came to discuss!" Ashur says in that fast way where he has more to tell you and he knows you're going to like it. "I have secured a sizable loan from good Marcellus to cover your winnings!" The news lifted spirits higher and for once Barca was happy to see the Syrian. "Terms of interest were  _outrageous_ -" Barca cuts him off, not giving a single fuck about Ashur's loans and debts,

"Give it here." 

"Marcellus brings it when he comes to collect his whores," At the glare he receives Ashur quickly adds, "in the morning!" Pietros was sly enough to slip his hand into the back of his cloth to squeeze Barca's ass. Scowling at being interrupted Barca steps forward towering over the cripple.

"You interrupt my cock with empty hands?"

"And intelligence!" Ashur adds fear obvious in his eyes. "Batiatus knows of your desire for freedom and makes noise for discussing terms." Barca feels a sliver of fear and trepidation run down his spine. How did Batiatus find out? Was he how  _Ashur_ found out? Or the other way around? Instantly Barca was suspicious. "Your skills while  **impressive** in the arena," The wine had Barca unfocused enough to mentally complain about the way Ashur talks with his hands, waving them about as if they explained things his words could not. "lack a certain gentle touch in the art of negotiation." Barca hates being reminded of the day he bought the marble dildo. Ashur was with him on orders of Batiatus. And if not for his sarcastic remarks Barca would have spent more money than he should have. So in this, the cunt had a point. Ashur leans forward talking a little faster now.

"I can offer to bargain better price from Batiatus for your release," Pietros grabs Barca's shoulders, knowing the Beast well enough to know he was losing his patience, "half the difference be subtracted from my debt to you." Barca glances at his love who smiles and nods encouragingly. It wasn't Barca's area of expertise so he was unsure. "Batiatus is in agreeable spirits." Ashur purrs, "If we move with haste!" He urges. Barca again looks at Pietros who chuckles lightly, the sound warming Barca's heart, 

"Go!" He nods and turns back to the Syrian.

"Lets go. And call him Dominus for the final time." Ashur nods and smiles moving so Barca could walk in front of him. 

 

 

"Or he lies to you now." Ashur speaks up, not to defend him. But to condemn him. Barca quickly turns to him before looking around noticing the guards moving in closer. Of  _course_ the Syrian fuck betrays him. He has to make it out of here. Has to make it to Pietros. His heart throbs in despair when he realizes he forgot to kiss him goodbye. Fucking Syrian's. 

"Either way we have a serious issue of trust." Batiatus spits before turning to walk away. Barca glances at the guards again his heart pounding.

"Dominus!" He calls out, "Let me expl-ahh!" There was a burning sharp pain in the back of his shoulder where Ashur's knife stabs him. At that point he had no choice. He was going to have to fight his way out of this. 

 

The stupidest thing he did was not pick up a sword sooner when there were fewer soldiers. The pain was excruciating, but nothing was worse than realizing they were going to lie to Pietros. To Crixus. He prays to the gods that Crixus will be better in time to save Pietros from Gneaus. The thought of what that fucking bastard would do to Pietros had him crawling, towards to the stairs. He had to save Pietros. Batiatus grabs him by the hair hauling him up to a kneeling position. Tears were in his eyes begging silently that Pietros would be safe. Know that he did not leave him willingly. He chokes a little on some blood as Batiatus scowls down at him.

" _Now_ you're free!" He snarls before slitting Barca's throat.

It was an odd sensation. Pain sure, but struggling to breathe over ones own blood was simply odd. Perhaps it was the wine, or the adrenaline. Or his heartbreak for Pietros and Crixus. When he drops into the water he momentarily feared he would drown in it. But then of course remembered what was the actually happen. Tears flowed as freely as his blood when he realized he could have let the boy live and have his death  _mean_ something. It would have been the end of Batiatus and his bitch wife. He wondered when he was going to die. Certainly nothing hurt anymore. But he knows he wasn't breathing. There was hurried movement around him and muffled voices. Nothing was clear enough to make out.

A pair of feet make there way to him. They didn't splash in the water. They weren't stain in his blood as it dyed the pool red. They were almost familiar. 

"Get up you ass. Or are you planning on spending eternity here?" Confused he looks up and was startled to see Auctus! He was so startled he forgot his throat was slit.

"Auctus!" Wait...he spoke?

"Come on. Welcome to the after life. Let us get going." His former lover extends a hand. Stunned Barca takes it and is pulled into a loving embrace. One he has missed. After a moment he looks back a little freaked out to see his body. 

"But...Pietros. And Crixus?" Auctus smiles softly, a strange look on him. 

"They will join us in their own time. And I will fight both of them for your affections." Barca laughs and strolls off with him a wave of content passing over him. Everything was going to be alright. Batiatus was right: he  _was_ free. 

 

 

 

 


	16. Delicate Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietros believed Ashur, and he knows what's going to happen to him now that Barca is gone. But he also witnessed what happened to Spartacus. The loss of his wife. In a fit of rage, hurt, fear, grief, and pity he offers the Champion some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered why Spartacus took an interest in Pietros, (his bleeding heart aside) SO I gave him a reason. I'm working on another chapter. This one immediately follows the last one. Sorry not sorry? I know I jump around the timeline a lot but I thought this was kind of fitting. Anyways I hope you enjoy comments and kudos are always welcomed.

Tears were still hot upon his cheek when he steps out onto the sands to see what is happening. Pietros gasps loudly at the scene. His already aching heart bleeds for Spartacus. Sobbing while holding his obviously dead wife. Pietros hugs himself and nervously glances over at Gneaus. Maybe he could find a way to stop something like that happening to him. A fresh wave of anger towards Barca washes over him and Pietros makes his decision. His rage shadowing his shame. 

 

Spartacus sat numbly in the middle of the bath. The funeral was over and all the other Gladiators were giving him a wide birth. Shakily he looks down at his hands. He could still see the blood. Her blood. Sura's blood. He blinks, happily ready to continue bawling over the loss of his heart. But he was dehydrated. No more tears to give. For now. Instead he closes his eyes and sinks into the water. Every fiber of his being wished to submerge himself and join her. Yet he knows that she would turn from him in the afterlife for dying such a cowardice way. 

"Oh. Apologies." A soft voice whispers from the doorway. Spartacus's eyes fly open and see's Pietros of all people hovering. Spartacus stands quickly, reaching for his towel. 

"No need. Pardon, give me a moment. You and Barca can have your privacy." Pietros snorts looking hateful, giving the Thracian pause. 

"Barca. The Beast of Carthage, my  _lover_ ," The word spoken with anything but, "has purchased his freedom and left me for dead." Spartacus's eyes widen. He had thought more of Barca. Shaking his head. Truly, Varro was the only decent man in the brotherhood. An image of Crixus pushed hard on top of him floats into his mind. He shakes his head. That dream was more haunting than Sura's death sometimes. 

"I am sorry." He tells. "He does not deserve one as kind as you if that is how he treats you." Pietros snorts again and rolls his eyes in a way that almost has Spartacus smiling. Without a word the slave discards his towel and climbs into the bath with him. 

"He was always rough, but never in a painful way. I suppose this is his version of a punishment." Spartacus tilts his head. Pietros glances at him as he begins cleaning himself. "For not letting him treat me the way he wished to. The way  _some_ will." Pietros informs not caring to hide the disdain from his voice. Spartacus scoffs.  
  
"One such as you does not deserve rough treatment. Rather to be worshiped and treasured." Spartacus replies knowing how he would have treated a lover such as Pietros. The young boy tilts his head looking the Champion up and down.

"Is that how you would have me?" Spartacus feels a small blush creep upon his cheek. "Slow, and delicate?" Pietros seems to glide through the water stepping closer. The boy wasn't much shorter than Spartacus, and not without strength. A promising fuck. Guilt grips his stomach at the thought. Sura's ashes barely to the wind and here he was ready to fall into bed with Pietros. With a sigh he answers honestly. How could he not?

"If you were mine, yes." He states truthfully, his cock only half interested in where this was going. His heart sinks lower thinking about how quick he was to lay with just anyone now that Sura was gone. Running fast back to his old ways. Before marriage. Where any willing whole or cock would satisfy his needs. 

"I could be." Pietros offers sinking low, they were close but still not touching. "If only for tonight." Spartacus hisses when Pietros licks his waist line. "To forget our sorrows for a few moments." The Thracian's head tilts back while the slave mouths his way across Spartacus's stomach. "Traded," a hand slides up his hip, "for bliss?" It was an offering. A sweet one his cock was hardening for. 

"Pietros," Spartacus breathes out, the young boy smiles wickedly up at him,

"hmm?" He was eager to hear what the Champion had to say.

"I," A moan as Pietros stroked his cock without warning, "I ca-cannot protect you the way Barca did. I will not claim you as my own in front of the others." It was a warning. 

"I understand Champion. This is a one time thing." Pietros pouts not looking up at him. Maybe if he was good enough it didn't have to be. Spartacus nods. He could indulge the boy. He understands the slaves anger. Barca recently tossed him aside. If he was a comfort to someone then it wouldn't be too bad. Perhaps Sura would approve of his reasoning. Spartacus almost laughs. No, his wife would not. She would roll her eyes and tell him his truth before he even understood it. 

Pietros works his hand around Spartacus's growing erection for a moment. It seems the man's grief had him distracted, he was going to have to fix that. When the head of his cock was above water the younger leaned down to lick around the tip. He was very proud about the broken noise he pulled from the Thracian. A clear sign he had the Champion's  _full_ attention. Holding his breath Pietros manages to swallow half of the Thracian's cock into his mouth without drowning. Spartacus moans clenching his hands into fists at his sides. 

"Pietros stop." He gasps at the first bob of the slaves head. The fear of rejection was clear on his face when he looks up at Spartacus. 

"Have I done something to displease you? Apologies. I wished only for a shared comfort." His soft voice was so full of hurt that when he released Spartacus's cock the Champion snatched the boy's wrist holding him in place. 

There was a pause. It was more out of instinct than anything. The boy did nothing  _wrong_ and Spartacus did not wish them to end things on a sour note. The last thing he wished was to cause someone as delicate and kind as Pietros any sort of pain. Especially one so similar to his own. Emotions and desires not always in balance; his cock gives an irritated twitch at the sudden lack of attention. Pietros glances at it with a small gulp. Tilting his head Spartacus gently pulls Pietros up to a standing position in front of him. 

"Gesture is much appreciated. And this night it shall be accepted." Spartacus whispers softly moving to cup both hands around Pietros's face. "But I shall do it on my terms. The baths are much too public. Join me in my cell?" It was a question. If Barca was as forceful as Pietros has lead him to believe then maybe it wasn't a relationship as full of love as he originally thought. Relief swept across the boys features and a small smile even graced his lips. 

"Gratitude." Pietros surprises him by giving him a swift kiss. "Come then. I shall not waste any more of your time." Spartacus shakes his head following the slave out. The two barely bother with covering themselves. Erections impeding any sort of decency anyways. 

 

 

 

"By the fucking  _Gods_!" Spartacus shouts bucking his hips into Pietros's throat. The boy chuckles around him, vibrations making him moan and sag back against the bed. "A-apologies." Pietros pops off with a perverted slurp grinning up at the Champion from between his thighs.

"For what?" His laughter was not mistaken for innocence. Spartacus pants a little looking down at him. 

"I boasted earlier about being gentle and sweet with you. Yet here I am, choking you-"

"Pfft. Thracian your cock is of an impressive size, tongue cannot bare false words in such a matter. But you are far from the largest I have ever had." Spartacus chuckles sitting up on his elbows. Having shared a bath with Barca in the past he knows this to be true. 

"Fair enough." Spartacus reaches down and pulls Pietros up on top of him. "But the rest of this shall be what I promised." Pietros rolls his eyes but smiles brightly. He has heard similar promises before. He wasn't sure what it was but always at some point his lovers become rough with him. As if they cannot control themselves. With those who do it properly such as Barca and Crixus the slave found he didn't mind. He shivers thinking of Gneaus. 

Spartacus sensing the boy's mind wandering rolls them so Pietros was on his back. He ghosts kisses across his lover's face, down his neck biting and sucking gently here and there. Mere whispers against Pietros's skin. Moaning Pietros arches up into Spartacus's touch, begging for more. Spartacus ignores the plea as he teases each dark nipple slowly and carefully. No rush and just the barest hint of teeth. His already leaking cock throbs in impatience. Something he long ago learned to enjoy. Pietros whimpers when Spartacus uses his hands to spread his thighs making more room for him between them. He found he enjoyed the little noises he was able to draw from the boy. Usually when he took a male lover he was the submissive. But this was nice as well. A first for him. Spartacus dips his fingers in some leftover wine before slipping them into Pietros's mouth. The Thracian holds back a whine at the way Pietros swirls his tongue. Instead of focusing on that he leans down using the flat of his own tongue on the underside of Pietros cock. He prides himself with the way his hips jerk upward.

"Spartacus," Pietros keens throwing his head back, abandoning his attempt to soak Spartacus's fingers. 

"Hush, you're safe. I will take care of you, Delicate one." Pietros smiles at the reassurance letting his eyes close. Spartacus beams, he likes knowing that he is trusted. Carefully he traces the wet digits down, watching the way he encircles Pietros's cock head swiping some of the clear liquid beading there. Pietros let out a harsh breath but spread his legs further, encouraging. 

"Please, it has been too long." Pietros begs surprising the Thracian. Barca has only been free for two whole days. He knows for a fact that Barca and Pietros were together every night but he had no idea...Spartacus huffs out a small laugh before pressing his index finger against Pietros entrance. His eyes widen at the wanton way Pietros pushes down against him. The way his whole body seemed to rise up. A strangled moan escapes him as he pushes past the outer ring of muscles with little resistance. Spartacus watches the way Pietros's face scrunches up with frustration. Mesmerizing. Curiously he adds a second digit perhaps sooner than he should have. Instead of seeming uncomfortable or even in pain, the boy cries out with a smile spreading across his face. "Yes, please Champion." Blinking stupidly Spartacus pours some of the oil Pietros brought with him on his cock, hissing at the contact. As he did this he was sure to stretch his young lover, scissoring his fingers, curling them waiting until, "OH FUCK!" Pietros convulses violently grabbing a hold of Spartacus's wrist his nails digging in. Spartacus lets out a shaky gasps, looking down. Pietros almost broke skin and for some reason that had him close to the edge. 

"Pietros are you alright?" He asks trying to shake off this might be discovery about himself. A lazy smile was his response. Shaking his head Spartacus eases his hand back and slowly places the tip of his cock against the slightly puckered hole. Pietros lifts his hips wrapping a leg around Spartacus's waist. 

"Now, please. I cannot stand to wait any longer." Spartacus hums at the thought of making him, but decides against it when Pietros wiggles against him. Spartacus eases himself in slow, tortuously so. The muscles gripping him were contracting, hot, wet and eager. Now he was starting to understand the issue Barca had with being gentle with this delicate thing. Just as he was fully situated Pietros thrusts upwards. 

"Fuck." Spartacus moans, pulling back almost all the way and slowly pushing himself in again.

"I cannot. This is too soft." Pietros complains with a frustrated sob. Spartacus smiles, carefully speeding his thrusts up a little. 

Between the whimpers and moans and curses Spartacus was soon lost. Delicate in most things, it became apparent quickly just how demanding Pietros was as a lover. Spartacus was doing his best to be gentle, having lost the battle for slow, soon after Pietros had grabbed his ass. Before he could say another word Spartacus was turned onto his back with a lap full of dark, sweet skin. 

"Champion my fucking ass. You are to kind for such brutality." Pietros snaps at him lifting himself up before slamming himself back down. Spartacus shouts as much in surprise as in pleasure. He was awed into near silence at the way Pietros rides him. Fast, hard, and  _loud_. Their skin smacking echoed, the bed creaked and gods save him the sounds coming out of his mouth were dwindling any reservations he had about hurting the young man. Groaning Spartacus grabs his hips and aids in the pursuit of release. With a shift Pietros was crying out, a smile back on his face. Two more strokes and their chests were being painted with white strips. The Thracian tries to slow down to ease Pietros off his high, but the slave growls and doubles his efforts. "Not until you finish." He demands. Spartacus makes an obscene noise pushing Pietros onto his back once more and all but pounding into him. Pietros shouts his encouragement locking his ankles behind Spartacus's back. Their thrusts became erratic, the clenching muscles around him almost painful, he was close to the edge, but unable to tip over. Frustrated Spartacus lifts Pietros slamming his back against the wall harder than he meant to twisting his hips when he thrusts. It was better but not enough, something was missing something was-

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus moans. Pietros scratches his back in efforts to pull him closer, the breaking of his skin was like a small fire sending shock waves straight to his cock. It was the trigger he needed apparently as he spills inside Pietros stilling his movements. The two slowly sink onto the bed panting and gasping for air. "Apologies." Spartacus whispers after a moment pulling out with a wince. Pietros laughs brightly.

"No need. I enjoyed it. You were still far gentler than any other lover I've had." Spartacus looks him up and down.

"I do not need to remind you that-"

"This was a one time thing yes." Pietros sighs shaking his head. He grabs his towel and kisses Spartacus on his cheek. "Rest well Champion. You have my gratitude." Spartacus frowns watching the boy leave. It felt more like resentment than gratitude. He sighs rolling onto his back. He perhaps would consider taking Pietros, if only for the boys protection. Once he knew Crixus's thoughts on the matter. The Gaul was close to Barca and therefore Pietros. He would know maybe a way Barca controlled himself? He was rougher than he wished to be and not being in control of his actions while being the dominator was not something he enjoyed. Sitting up quickly Spartacus looks around. He could have  _sworn_ he heard Sura laugh. Sighing deeply he lays back down. Tomorrow was another day. His stomach threatens to show itself as he closes his eyes thinking of his beloved wife.

 

Pietros slinks back to his cell shame covering him. He  _threw_ himself at the Champion of Capua. The Thracian. Crixus was going to be furious. Heartbroken. His heart clenches when he thinks of Barca. Was he simply working fast to make enough money to free Pietros? Did he just throw away their love for nothing? Shaking he shuts the door behind him and curls up on the bed tears forming in his eyes. He had always found Spartacus appealing, but he always liked the man's kindness more. Perhaps he just ruined a friendship as well. Perhaps he deserved whatever it was Gneaus was sure to have in store for him now that Barca and Crixus could no longer protect him. The coo of the birds, something that usually helps him fall asleep, aid into reminding him of his grief, and sleep is only found after a long shedding of tears. 


	17. Door Number Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus has issues dealing with his feelings and desires. His heart, and his mind are at odds and he doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I told you there would be another chapter this week. Thank you guys for your patience and your plot bunnies. The comments and kudos are what I live for basically. This one will span a few episodes. It introduces the brothers! Duro and Agron are here at last! Yay! Anyways; Ya'll are wonderful. I hope you enjoy.

He only half listens to Spartacus answer Doctore's question. It hurt a little since he was once asked the same question. But with his wounds still healing if anyone acted out the way the Thracian had then he would not fair well at all. Instead he leans against a post and watched the new recruits. A couple of them looked better suited for house work. One was dark of skin and it was Crixus's belief that the man would not survive the training. Two tall fucks that could only be from the East of the Rhine. And another Gaul. He smirks a little wishing he could feel a kinship. The way Rhaskos and some of the others felt towards him. But he had always felt his family, his kin, was more of the Gladiators alone. More so of Barca and Pietros. Thinking about them hurt. Crixus felt the ache in his bones. Barca off to the hills, (supposedly) and Pietros...he sighs thinking of the young man. He had yelled at Spartacus for killing Gnaeus. Yet when he learned why...well Crixus knows he would have done the same thing. If only he had healed faster. If only Pietros had waited just one more day. Or come see him at all. Why the boy did not was still a mystery to him. He hopes the past few years were not an act to keep him protected from the net wielder. Crixus fumes as he ponders this doing his best to keep his eyes off of Spartacus, shit seemed to always be  **just** in sight. 

"Doctore!" Batiatus  _never_ interrupts the welcoming speech. Crixus glances upwards. He can picture Lucretia standing next to that girl that Glaber married. Children marrying children in his opinion. "Our honored guest wishes to access the recruits' virtues." Crixus rolls his eyes at this. Of course. Illythia was going to chose someone to sponsor. Probably fuck them the way he's used with Lucretia. He's already glanced and assessed them all. In his mind Illythia would probably go for the shorter, younger looking of the shits East of the Rhine. The one who answered like a moron. The pup looked eager to please. Crixus scowls at this before looking towards the Thracian. The only one besides himself not jeering and laughing at the newbies. Crixus wonders, as Doctore cracks his whip and orders them about, if Spartacus knows what's happening.  There was a stab of sympathy that one day soon the false Champion would be used as a piece of meat before the rest of the nobles. He sighs turning to pay attention again. One by one the recruits removed their clothes as ordered. Crixus couldn't help but mentally compare to others. He had hoped to imagine Gannicus, or Barca, or even Pietros. Yet instead the image of the cunt Spartacus appeared in his mind. He swallows thickly thinking about his fevered dream. Was it a dream? Crixus's eyes widen a little at the Rhine brother's. Both larger than he expected having heard tale of their kind having disappointing performances in bed.

Before he could see the Gaul's he notices Spartacus glancing at him. Almost as if hoping Crixus would explain what was happening here. Crixus curses himself when he feels his cock hardening. His heart was racing in ways only Naevia should make it. It had been days,  _days_ since he has laid eyes on Spartacus, and vice versa. They had not spoken since he learned of Pietros's death and he was starting to feel the weight of loneliness crushing him. Even with new potential rivals, or replacement allies, possible friends Crixus finds difficulty taking his eyes off of Spartacus. 

"I wish to alter my bet." Varro's voice carries, " _Everything_ on the one with the horse cock." Crixus glares when Spartacus turns to look. He already knows Spartacus was an eager little cunt when it came to cock. Crixus huffs looking past the Thracian and makes a soft choking noise when he see's what has everyone else feeling shamed. That marble be fucking damned. He hasn't ever agreed with the blond in the past, but Varro was right. Horse. Cock. Spartacus turns just as Crixus found the strength to tear his gaze away from the recruit. The Thracian passes him, almost close enough to touch. Crixus shifts, barely glancing at him making sure their shoulders do not touch. They were in a distance enough that he could feel the  _heat_ coming off of the leaner man. Even though he had just poorly serviced Lucretia, and his wounds kept him far from his usual abilities, Crixus's cock still manages to have a mind of its own when it came to Spartacus. His skin burns knowing Spartacus was looking at him, almost in an offering way, a challenge to follow him. Crixus glares after Spartacus walks off. Grumbling Crixus storms off to his cell knocking over his chest as he does. There was a clatter that didn't make sense right away. 

"The fuck?" Crixus whispers to himself turning around to look at the mess he made. Blinking slowly he squats down and picks up a cloth bag that he has seen only once before in his lifetime. Shakily he opens it and pulls out the familiar toy. Tears spring to his eyes understanding the meaning. Barca would never have left this in Crixus's possession if he planned on not writing. Not visiting. Not taking Pietros. Crixus sinks down onto the floor cradling the marble crying softly.  

 

It was a little while later he was joining the men for midday meal. The recruits were just given the signal to get in line. Crixus nods remembering those days;

"...only yesterday we were of a similar position." Varro and Spartacus once again eating together. Crixus scowls. If Spartacus loved his wife so much then how was he able to attach himself so firmly to the shit's side so soon after her death? Crixus knows if Naevia were to die then his own heart would stop beating too. Crixus tries to imagine it, but instead sees Spartacus's head rolling across the sand. The thought scares him. Which was infuriating.  He wonders what Barca would say about any of this. His heart clenches realizing nobody messed with the porridge. Nobody pissed in it, or spit in it, or put feathers at the bottom. Crixus could feel his mood sour. Between thoughts of caring for the Thracian, and missing Barca. Varro passes him leaving Spartacus to sit alone. A seat vacant and waiting. More than anything Crixus wanted to go sit next to him and discuss the new recruits. Guilt sinks into his stomach. Naevia should be the one he wants to talk to. Scowling he knocks one of the recruits to the ground, hitting the bowl out of the horse cock's. 

"You fucking wait, until gladiators have filled their bellies!" 

"Crixus." He looks up, eyes widening at the warmth that spreads through him when Spartacus says his name. "Let them eat." As a recruit he would have given  _everything_ to have Gannicus stand up for him this way. Crixus feels an old bitter resentment rising at the thought of the Celt. He wonders which newbie caught Spartacus's eye. 

"They must embrace suffering and  _pain_ to become gladiators." Crixus explains with a clip in his voice. His irritation with the Thracian knows no bounds. For starters the man had no reason to hold his interest. He had no honor. Did not care for the ludus. Did not care for Crixus, and did not care for the proper way of training gladiators! "This is how it is done!" Spartacus chuckles and nods slightly. 

"But not by you," Crixus's mouth thins at the taunt. "Let them eat." He says as if it wouldn't insult Auctus and Barca's memories to let them. Crixus looks around noticing everyone was watching the two of them. Much like their fight in the baths. He scoffs.

"Spartacus." He opens his arms, "The kind and gentle one." A few chuckles. Spartacus smirks before slowly getting up. Crixus straightens his shoulders ready for a swing. 

"Do not mistake me Crixus." A strange flutter of the heart at his name. He was going to have to speak to Naevia. Have her say it more. Perhaps that was the issue. "I give no  **shit** for these men." Crixus calls bullshit. But...these men? If not these men then maybe? Spartacus draws up to his full height once again reminding Crixus that he was shorter than the Thracian. "But you are no longer the Champion of Capua." The reminder squeezed at his heart. "You do not take lead here." Crixus clenches his jaw forcing the sting of tears back. "You follow." Spartacus says happily. The only thing that kept Crixus in check was the memory of Spartacus,  _begging_ for him. The thought had Crixus smirking. He moves to walk away before,

"The one who follows. Is forever at your  _back_ ," He snips using his own subtle reminder, "Something to consider,  _Champion_." He mocks before throwing his food at the recruit still on the ground. As he storms off he noticed the puppy from East of the Rhine look at him before quickly looking away, almost shyly. Good. Fucker should show some respect. 

 

 

Crixus avoids the baths that night. He feels like he hasn't earned it. There was no training from him today. Besides. A grimace, Spartacus would be there. If he encountered the Thracian again today it would end in a fight....in front of the others at least. If it was just him and Spartacus? There were a mass of ideas flowing through his mind. Everyone of them going straight to his cock. It was much too early to pleasure himself. The thought barely crossed his mind when his eyes stray to the chest where he now keeps the toy. If he ever encounters Barca again he was going to thank him. After he smacks him for leaving Pietros. Willingly or not. Crixus paces a little trying to figure out what to do. Lucretia was going to be busy with Batiatus. The man had no cause for leaving tonight. Spartacus was now in Gannicus's old cell. And he  _knows_ how quiet and private that is. He groans a little his erection becoming painful. And with Lucretia being busy Naevia was going to be stuck at her side all night. He makes a face. Naevia was better than that. She deserved more than sweet words and a quick fuck. She wasn't a whore.

.....

Whore.

Crixus brightens up at his genius. He's never taken one before. Generally he uses his coin for oils. Once he was questioned by Lucretia and he said it was to help him relax and think of her upon occasion. So that means he should have enough saved up for a whore! None but Ashur would have to know. Crixus is well aware he can threaten the damn Syrian into silence. Nodding to himself he leans casually against the bars. Every end of the month the fucking cripple would come by and ask Crixus what he wished to do with his coin. This month should be no different. In fact Crixus almost smiles as Ashur approach- aaaand he's passing?

"Ashur." He calls out. The Syrian stops, "You pass my cell by mistake." He doesn't wait for the fuck to turn around. "Where is my coin?"  Lucretia favored him too much to have him go without. Ashur saunters over, the smile growing on his face making Crixus uneasy. 

"The mistake is yours. You do not fight, you are entitled to neither coin," Ashur looks him up and down suggestively, "nor cunt." Crixus scowls, gripping the bars. If Ashur was doing this just to get Crixus again, he was going to kill him. 

"The Dominus shall hear about this."  

"Oh," Ashur nods and laughs, "His very hands set the names." Crixus feels his heart pounding in fear. If Batiatus does not wish him to fight? Is he to be Barca's replacement? "Perhaps next month you should find yourself again among them," He once again gives Crixus a once over. Barca and Ashur were forced to spend time together while the Beast was the Dominus' body guard. A chill runs down his spine thinking about spending time with Ashur. "Should your wounds ever heal." Crixus seethes furious at the course his life as taken. Spartacus passes his cells as he leaves the baths. Crixus glares at him turning away. He hears the Thracian sigh and continue on his path. Arrogant fuck. 

He tries for hours for sleep to find him. None of course do. His cock aching for attention. Sighing Crixus waits for some more of the candles to die out before removing his subligaria. It had been many years since he's pleasured himself just to pleasure himself. Nobody to watch or entice. The only one who's blood is set a flame will be his own. Shaking his head Crixus closes his eyes and works his fist over his cock. A groan slips past his lips as he imagines Naevia. 

After a few minutes it becomes clear that his calloused large hand was far from her small smooth dainty one. Frustrated Crixus rolls off the bed and digs around in the chest. pulling out the marble and a vial of oil. Settling back on the bed Crixus spreads his legs while coating his fingers.  

A low moan escapes him when he ignores any sense of patience applying two fingers to himself. It burned, the lack of attention these past few months had him tighter than he had been in years. Knowing he didn't have enough oil he eagerly slips the marble past his lips, moaning at the weight on his tongue. An old fantasy of his starts to play in his mind. Gannicus. Back and there for Crixus. The Celt whispering of long suppressed desires finally coming to a head. 

Crixus was panting when he shifted to switch flesh with toy. A hand now free he starts fisting his cock imagining how much Gannicus would enjoy the fact that he was leaking. It had been a whole season since he last used the dildo on himself, and this angle was slightly awkward. It took more effort to fill himself with it. But his wounds agreed with this position more bearable. Crixus arches his hips murmuring as he was breached. In his mind Gannicus's face was perfect, mouth formed in a shocked and awed 'o', and then when he felt the marble fully sheathed:

Spartacus's smug smirk. 

"Fucking shit." Crixus growls thrusting down. Bastard didn't know how to mind his own business and stay out of a perfectly good fantasy. Hell he could even imagine what the fucker would say:

"Such words beg for more punishment." Crixus whimpers a little as his mind takes hold of this new madness. Spartacus was generous as a bottom, Crixus envisions how satisfying he could make it be as the dominant. Crixus's breathing hitches as a familiar warmth builds, his hips snapping as best as they could.

"Is that the best you have to offer?" He whispers to his mental version of the Thracian. "Pitiful excuse for a lover  _and_ a Champion." Crixus writhes easily picturing the rage on Spartacus's face. The challenge having been set and demanding to be answered. "Fuck!" Crixus twitches violently his own orgasm surprising him, slicking his hand and making a damned mess. With a groan he removes the marble cock and regains his senses. Spent, yes. Satisfied? Far from it. Closing his eyes Crixus sighs deeply. His emotions were never something he understood easily. Usually had assistance from Barca or Pietros. Now he was sure to fuck something up if he wasn't careful. 

 

 

The next morning had him being examined by the medicus. He has spent too many days with the old fucker to not know the man would do anything for him. Why he still was unsure. But anytime Crixus looked him dead in the eyes he found the man to become as of clay. Batiatus was attending this examination, making it so Crixus refused to speak. To show pain. Be silent instead of complaining about Naevia having to be busy, or Spartacus in general. Or even get the chance to ask the medicus how his wife and children were doing down in the city. The man too infrequently gets to see them he's learned. There was a particular wound that had him wince, but he refused to cry out.

"His wounds yet need more time." The medicus mutters. Crixus's heart drops at the news but relief consumes him when medicus moves away.

"How much longer?" Batiatus asks sounding agitated".

"A fortnight or two. Perhaps three." Crixus feels the color draining from his face at the news. Batiatus scoffs, 

"Jupiter's cock!" Crixus glances up at the Dominus worriedly. 

"His recovery may be aided by certain herbs. Absent the apothecary" Crixus can feel a panic rising in him. He's heard of Spartacus's latest victories, against pathetic men. What if he once again finds himself facing a dangerous opponent? Will they pair him with someone? But who? That idiot Varro? Rhaskos? One of the new recruits?! Crixus swallows hard. Spartacus was going to die if that happened. And Crixus? What is he if not a gladiator? He shivers thinking about his life before this ludus. He has to do  _something_.

"Dominus. I've been without sword for too long," Batiatus looks at him, and the paper he was handed, "Let me resume training?" There was a hesitation as he looks to the paper again with a long sigh. 

"I will see all on the list procured. Heed Medicus' warning." Batiatus instructs pointing to Crixus. "Your sword will return to your hand soon enough." He nods before walking out. Crixus sighs shakily before walking out to watch the men. There were a few openings in many of them. That pup from the Rhine had more than most. Someone needed to help him or he too would fall. The tall fuck, the pup's brother was doing better but there was a rage there. Fool would die too. He noticed they had placed Segovax with Spartacus. His hand clenches into a fist watching them. Fucking horse cock. Spartacus probably couldn't wait to be only with the ox. 

"Crixus." Naevia's voice had him confused. At first....

 

 

Medicus was dealing with his wounds when Spartacus strolls in. Crixus could still feel the bruise to his pride. Yet here the fucker was to add to it.

"You over reach. And are the results." Crixus refuses to turn around to look at him.

"Do not address me as you would a recruit."

"Then do not act like one." The sass was not missed. Crixus could feel tears springing to his eyes. He had failed. He was going to be sold and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Words of import. From the mighty Spartacus." He was going to be sold. And he would never see Naevia again. And without him, Spartacus would die. His heart clenches at the thought, "Bringer of Rain." He continues bitterly, remembering how close the idiot came to Theokeles' sword. Before he pushed the Thracian out of the way and took all the blows. "Slayer of Theokeles. As if you stood against him on your own." His throat was tightening, making it difficult to form words. "Without my aid. You would have nothing. Not even your miserable life." He says swallowing a lump of emotion. 

"True." There was something like regret in his voice, "But here I stand. And there you sit." Crixus could laugh. And he called Spartacus the kind and gentle. When his words stung worse than his punches.

"You know  _shit_ about being a Champion." Spartacus was a blemish on Gannicus's memory. He wanted to stand and yell so damned bad. "About being a  _true_ brother. You are only playing at your own part." He smiles darkly thinking about how he was going to be sold. "And one day the game will end." Spartacus steps closer, Crixus could see him clearly out of the corner of his eye. That ever present smirk set upon his face.

"Death comes to us all." Crixus turns away still refusing to look at him. That guard near the door was all that kept his hands from the Thracian's throat...or subligaria. He hasn't decided which. "Press me again. And you shall find yours." Spartacus turns to leave...but he pauses. "Leave us." He addresses the guard. Curious Crixus turns to look. The man raises an eyebrow at him but shrugs and steps down the hall,  _just_ out of sight. 

"And what do you think you are doing now you mad fuck?" Crixus asks standing slowly. Spartacus gives him a pitying look moving to pick up a cloth and extends it.

"To clean your face." Crixus hesitates before taking it and cleaning himself off. Spartacus moves closer with a different cloth. Crixus runs his over his face, covering his eyes momentarily. The second he does this Spartacus reaches out to dab at his chest. 

"Arrogant fuck." Crixus snarls stepping back. "Is this your version of an apology? Keep it. I neither want it nor need it." Spartacus tosses the rag down with a huff. 

"I am simply trying to help, to make amends why don't you put your ego away," Crixus throws his cloth at Spartacus,

"Eat shit!" Spartacus makes a face stepping closer, 

"If you would just let yourself heal properly-"

"Nobody asked for your concern you shit eating-" Crixus could not manage to finish the insult when Spartacus shoves him against the wall and crashes their lips together. A groan escapes him when Spartacus grinds against him. Last night's fantasy fresh in his mind Crixus was more than eager, more than willing. Perhaps he could get some true satisfaction this time. The two break apart gasping and panting for breath, "fuck," Crixus mutters under his breath, just before Spartacus's mouth was on his again. 

Distractedly, Crixus slides his hands up to comb through Spartacus's short hair. He remembers how much the man liked it pulled. The sensation had the Thracian whimper, his hands making their way down to Crixus's hips, practically clawing at them. The pressure was infuriating. Enough to keep him on edge. Close to desperation. If Spartacus thought he could make Crixus beg he was mistaken. Skillfully he slips his hand into Spartacus's subligaria pulling their hips tighter together, the friction setting his skin on fire. This was wild, this was dangerous and it was everything Crixus wanted.

"A fine showing." 

Crixus let Varro and Spartacus have a moment. He wasn't sure why he decided to be civil. To not cuss the Roman fuck out and toss him over the cliff for interrupting. His stomach was in knots over his own mind. His thoughts were clouded. It was dangerous to be with Spartacus alone. The man was simply too...distracting. Crixus banters with them for a moment trying to decide what to do. His cock was throbbing, and even his ass hole twitched. Last night proved to him that pleasuring himself would be futile. Perhaps...well if these two were able to keep their relationship secret it was possible they would remain silent about a one time affair. He could find someone else. One of the new comers perhaps to replace Barca and Pietros. But for now, these two could serve to take the edge off. Have his mind cleared. 

"Follow me you fucks." 

 

 

What the fuck had come over him? Crixus was in the baths with the rest of the gladiators trying to decide if he should just throw himself over the cliff now. He had revealed one of his biggest secrets. Two even! And to Naevia? No of course not. To the simple fuck Spartacus. He glares at the ground as he passes. yes he knows Spartacus looked up eagerly. The idiot could not hide his emotions for a moment. Yet Segovax was speaking to him. And Crixus would not interrupt. He wished to see how the Thracian interacted with the horse cock off the sands. Would he treat him the same as he treats Crixus? Or would he be kind like he is with Varro? 

"Victories in the arena; and freedom." Crixus rolls his eyes. Here was to come Spartacus's speech about patience, and keeping dreams of freedom alive and well. Thinking about life outside these walls as he did. Crixus shakes his head with a small smile. Stupid fuck. 

"Forsake any thoughts of freedom." Spartacus warns softly. Crixus's mouth thins and his eyes widen as he turns slightly too look at his rival. "And the life you once had beyond these walls. Accept your fate." Spartacus looks up at him. Crixus couldn't meet his eye. "Or be destroyed by specter's of a past never to return."  Crixus lets his head hang low with a nod when a guard comes to retrieve him. He knows Lucretia and Illythia had guests. So his duties as a Champion were coming to the light. He wonders if Spartacus was going to mess anything up. 

He frowns as he cleans himself. Spartacus no longer wished for life outside of the ludus. Good. He was finally learning. Crixus feels his heart sinking. Which made no sense. Perhaps it was because it was an echo of the words he once said to the Thracian? Was Spartacus turning into a newer version of himself. Scowling he finishes his bath and storms to his cell.

 

 

Crixus paces his cell ignoring his stomachs grumbling for morning meal. Spartacus and Varro were at odds. He knows this. Something happened last night after the blond left his cell. After Spartacus came back from the women. He had seen it before turning and retreating back here. A scar, newly formed on Spartacus's chest. He worries it was from the Roman Gladiator. But it could also be from the women. This was possibly his last day in this ludus. How was he going to tell Naevia he loves her? How was he going to deal with leaving Spartacus? The man currently had no friend and with Crixus leaving would surely descend into madness once more! What if Spartacus didn't understand where Crixus went? Would anyone tell him? Ashur's fuck ass would probably gloat about it. He had to get Varro and Spartacus back on friendly terms. Whatever happened was obviously bullshit and _obviously_ Spartacus's fault. Crixus was just about to go confront him when Varro enters his cell. Shocked Crixus raises his eyebrows. 

"I require distraction." Varro growls storming over. Crixus scoffs letting himself get pushed against the wall his wrists held next to his head. 

"And why should I give two shits about what you require?" He asks smugly. Varro mouths at the side of Crixus's neck sending jolts through him. 

"Because you desire it too." Crixus bites the inside of his cheek tilting his head so Varro could have better access. "The rush of a good fuck," Varro releases his wrists as he licks and nibbles his way down the Gaul's chest, "the burn of your precious toy," Crixus tilts his head back allowing his cloth to be removed. "a chance to piss off Spartacus." There was venom in his voice when he says the false Champion's name. An eyebrow quirks looking down. Varro pumps Crixus's hardening cock a few times before lapping at the head. Crixus hisses at the contact. 

"And why would you wish to do such a thing?" He whispers sucking in a harsh breath when Varro wraps his lips around the tip of his erection. Varro hums a little barely teasing him. Refusing to have Crixus any further in his mouth. Crixus whimpers slightly his hips jerking in small thrusts. Varro pops off with a wet noise. 

"Because he is an ass who always seems to be right." Crixus nods in understanding. Varro makes his way back up Crixus, nails scraping lightly across his sides. Crixus arches into him his breathing becoming labored. Varro slides his thigh between the Gaul's delighting him with the friction. The taller of the two grinds down against him with a low moan. Crixus lets his hands reach out gripping his hips tightly pulling himself up to match Varro. Crixus sighs happily when Varro grips his short hair, tugging harshly. 

"A fine showing indeed." Varro springs away from Crixus as if he was caught on fire. Crixus huffs in annoyance looking over at his doorway where Spartacus leaned. "Crixus is summoned." He informs crossing his arms. Cursing Crixus dresses and stomps off trying hard not to think about what Naevia said last night. He was going to have to fuck Lucretia, and fuck her well. Better than he ever has before. To what end he has no fucking clue. But...he glances back at Spartacus noticing the stiff back, the rigid shoulders and the refusal to acknowledge him. Maybe he would at least have the chance to say goodbye? Much like he did to Gannicus. Nodding Crixus follows a guard to Naevia and makes his way to Lucretia. At least his cock was looking forward to this. However there was the small option that one day he would meet Spartacus on the sands of the Arena and it would not be against a common foe. One day, perhaps he would have to be the one to give Spartacus his glorious death. 

 

 

He spent  _hours_ with Lucretia. Once he saw Naevia watching with more than vague interest as he has caught her doing in the past, Crixus decided he was insatiable. Vibius was owner of shit and mongrels. There was not going to be an attractive male there. And Vibius was also unmarried. No wife, no pretty women. Crixus was probably never going to have sex with another person again. He prays to the gods, wishes that the last person he sleeps with was Naevia instead of Lucretia. But all he could do was put on a show. It helped that Lucretia was greedy for him. She was ready for any position he turned her to. So long as he was man handling her. It had been a while since he gained pleasure just from her cunt without having to picture anyone. But as she met his thrust with determination, convulsing around him Crixus grunted at the sensation, spilling into her. He almost laughs realizing it was probably for the last time. 

 

He needed a bath. Crixus had basically spent the entire day fucking Lucretia. A bath was in order. He grimaces remembering he needed to wash the marble cock as well. A detour to his cell was needed then. Getting closer to his cell he hears what, at first could be mistaken for fucking. But he knows those kind of grunts and snarls. Fighting. In the baths. A sweep of his eyes tells him, whoever was fighting, they were fighting Spartacus! His heart seizes in his chest as he ignores the slight pain in his side rushing to the Thracian. Crixus wasn't even sold yet, still within the fucking walls and Spartacus was getting into trouble because Crixus was not by his side! Because Varro's dumb-ass was not either! As soon as he saves the fuckers life he was going to drag him by his _hair_ to the blond and have them make up. Rounding the corner he thinks his heart stops all together to see Segovax strangling the life out of Spartacus. The Thracian's face was quickly turning purple! It must have been a surprise attack because Spartacus was  _losing_! Son of a bitch!

Crixus launches himself at the fellow Gaul scrambling to sit on the taller's chest to allow enough leeway for Spartacus to become free. Crixus works quickly to try and dig his thumbs into Segovax's eyeballs. But he was thrown off. But he wasn't former Champion for nothing. Crixus bounces to his feet just as the recruit desperatly runs at Crixus, attempting to land a punch. Crixus side steps him throwing him into the wall. He doesn't give the stupid fuck a chance to do more than turn around before he's landing his fist against the man's jaw. Crixus was seeing red. Spartacus was hurt, Spartacus almost  _died_ and it was because of this cunt! Segovax manages a back hand but it wasn't strong enough. Crixus lands another right hook, but Segovax jabs him in his injured side, gaining a small advantage. Crixus shouts angrily as he throws the bastard over his shoulders, A mistake apparently as he grabs one of the cleaning tools and swipes at Crixus with it. It slices his leg a little earning the man a chance to stand. Crixus hopes someone was getting assistance since  _Spartacus_ wanted to lay on the ground gasping for air! Fear envelops him at the thought of Spartacus choking on his own blood seeps into his mind. He couldn't let that happen. He had to finish this soon! He catches Segovax's next hit and punches the opened side right before he broke the fuckers arm for trying to stab his eye with the tool. Another punch to the stomach to aid Crixus in throwing the recruit into the side of the bath. The stone basin cracking the man's teeth and knocking some of them out. Crixus feels his stomach threatening to make itself known, as Spartacus manages to untangle the rope he had still around his neck. Crixus collapses onto his knees holding back his vomit. 

"You'd," Spartacus was panting just as heavily as Crixus was, "kill a fellow Gaul? To save a man you hate?" Crixus looks up at him in utter disbelief. Spartacus truly was a fool. Well if  _that_ is what he wished to believe.

"I did not save 'Spartacus'," He informs clutching his side wondering where the fuck the guards were. "I saved a Brother, who shares the mark." Crixus does his best to say this like he was explaining that the sky was blue. Shakily he forces himself to stand feeling a little smug that Spartacus seemed unable. "You have earned a glorious death." he continues once righted, "And will die at the hands of a gladiator." Crixus leaves to go get help. After instructing the nearest guards he finds Varro. 

"Wish to finish what we started earlier?" He asks barely glancing up from his seat. Crixus rolls his eyes.

"You need to go assist your bitch." Varro stands quickly, glaring at him.

"What have you done to him?" He was in Crixus's face and frankly...Crixus didn't have any fight left in him today. The past few have drained him.

"Nothing you cunt. Except save his fucking life." Varro's eyes widen before he runs off. Rhaskos steps closer to check on him. Crixus waves him off, feeling someone watching him. A glance over his shoulders shows the East of the Rhine brothers. The older looked furious. The pup; curious. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

 

He waits until Segovax is high against the wall before speaking to the Thracian again. Saving the life of Spartacus will no doubt secure his position here. For now.

"I will regain my position. Champion." He felt like he was insulting Gannicus every time he called Spartacus that. But the thought of Spartacus did not fill him with the hatred and rage as it used to. He knows his purpose with the Thracian. Protector. Otherwise the fuck would get himself killed. Spartacus glances at him but stays focused on the crucified man.

"I welcome the attempt." Always ready for a fight. Crixus smirks. It was one of the few things he liked about Spartacus. Nodding he does his best to focus on Segovax too...but he could still sense someone staring at him. Looking across the sands he sees the Rhine brother's but only the pup was looking his way. The man's eyes widen when he realizes Crixus was looking at him, and he quickly turns away. The older doesn't even bother looking up before he smacks the pup upside the head. Crixus frowns. He was going to have to talk to Doctore. Pairing with the young recruit should he survive the test was going to be necessary. For more than just himself.  

 

 

 


	18. Trivial Truths, Tangled Thoughts and Testing Thots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus is still mad at Spartacus and decides to avoid him. Which is easier than he thought once he realizes he has a strange interest in one of their newbies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did pretty ok last week, I think at least. I'm hoping this week I can knock out three chapters. I'm realizing how happy new comer's are going to be when I (eventually) get done with season one/two. Yes there is the possibility of flash backs while I'm typing my way through season's three and four but don't quote me. But there's already almost twenty chapters and we just now killed off Pietros and Barca lmao. I can't imagine ya'll's frustration with wanting Gannicus back already. Or for Crixus to be an actual bottom. But you guys have been so patient so far and so supportive and I can not thank ya'll enough. Your comments and kudos and evaluations and plot bunnies are heart warming and honestly I'm living for them. lol. I hope you enjoy!

"Agron." Crixus glances over at the only two recruits left. Unsurprisingly it was the two shits from East of the Rhine. The taller steps forward at Batiatus's command. Crixus nods storing that information away. "You will face Hamilcar." Dominus instructs with a wave of his hand. Crixus could hear Spartacus scoff somewhere behind him. His skin tingles when he does. Scowling Crixus folds his arms firmly keeping himself in place. It has been a few days since he saved the ungrateful Thracian. Not a thank you. Nothing. The last thing he spoke to him was about fighting. Bastard think's he is hated. Crixus scrunches his face watching Hamilcar climb up with Agron. The man drives him  _mad_ but no...as much as he has tried to Crixus does not believe he hates him. Hate was what he felt for Ashur. For some of the Guards, Batiatus. 

"Come on Agron!" Crixus turns his gaze to the younger brother. He was smiling, eyes bright with pride. Definitely the younger. Crixus raises an eyebrow when the pup looks over at him before quickly turning away, a blush fresh upon his cheeks. Odd. The clashing of swords draws his attention back to the two contenders. He almost laughs at the ridiculous height difference. Always he has prayed that Hamilcar would not fall. He was the only man shorter than Crixus in the brother hood. 

"Fucking shit!" Agron shouts when Hamilcar manages a small cut on his arm. For reasons unknown to him he looks to the brother, who looks neither worried nor angry. In fact he looks pleased.  _Laughing_ even. It only took a few seconds to figure out why. Agron, it seems did  **not** like seeing his own blood. The thud of his large foot to Hamilcar's chest echoed when the Gladiator fell off the walk way. There was some cheering and a small curse from Rhaskos who bet against Agron. The oaf jumps down and offers a hand to his opponent. Rolling his eyes Hamilcar takes it and allows himself to be pulled up. Doctore nods and motions for him to stand to the side. He passes his brother clapping a hand on his shoulder squeezing it tight. Crixus tilts his head watching them.

"Duro." The pup looks up, excited and eager. The light from a nearby torch catches something on the man's nose. Crixus narrows his eyes. He's  _seen_ piercing's before. Lucretia has her ears pierced. And he knows during some parties there are slaves or whores who have their nipples done too. He's even seen one in an eyebrow once. But the nose? It made no sense. "Facing Rhaskos." Crixus' hand twitches when Duro climbs the scaffolding. That was something else that didn't make any. Gannicus was obvious. Barca and Pietros was a no brainer, and women were women. Spartacus he has chalked it up to madness, and Varro was understandable. But this...pup? Was he even attracted? Curious? Crixus did not know. But he watches Duro with far more interest than he did Agron. 

"Fucking idiot." He hears Agron grumble when Duro gets tripped. From the corner of his eye he could see Spartacus move closer to the angry brother. 

"Calm yourself. It would do nothing but get the two of you killed if you stepped in." Spartacus says softly. Crixus scowls not even blinking anymore as he watches Duro roll out of the way and managed to catch Rhaskos off guard. But Rhaskos wasn't as slow as Hamilcar. The two clashed swords. 

"I'm going to  _strangle_ him." Agron growls clenching his fists. Varro laughs cheerfully making his way over as well.

"Which one?" He teases. Crixus stiffens his shoulders. He does not believe it, but it feels as if he was being brushed aside. Replaced by Agron. Which was ridiculous since he held no care for either one of those crazy fucks. 

"I have not decided." Agron answers through his teeth. Crixus even smirks at that knowing full well that indecision was the only thing keeping the dumb-ass in place. Duro was faster than Rhaskos due to his slimmer frame, the only thing that saved his life in Crixus's professional opinion. He managed to get behind Rhaskos aiming his sword directly to the back of his bald head. 

"Duro!" Doctore shouts. Everyone freezes. There was always the one possibility of a rebellious one. Duro however smiles brightly lowering his weapon. A few chuckles was the signal he needed, Rhaskos stands and turns around rolling his eyes and extending his hand. Awed the idiot takes Rhaskos' hand practically shaking in delight. He hops down and Agron beams in pride. The two share a hug before Agron muses Duro's hair. 

"You need to be more careful." He says clasping a hand on the back of his neck pressing their foreheads together. Duro snorts.

"Says you.  _I_ made it out without a scratch." Agron laughs sticking his tongue out. Crixus's eyes widen. There was a lot of things Agron could do with a tongue like that. His eyes slide to the laughing Duro who smacks his brother away from him. Crixus wonders if Duro had a similar tongue. Shaking his head Crixus makes his way to the baths while the rest of them watched the brother's receive the mark and recite the oath. 

"Crixus." He almost jumps at the soft voice to his right. 

"Naevia?" His voice was a harsh whisper as he rushes over looking around. She smiles and his heart skips a beat. "Has something happened?" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"No, I had just noticed you were not among the rest of them. I grew concerned." Crixus feels guilt twist his stomach. He smiles reassuringly reaching through the bars to cup her face. 

"I am uninjured. Simply confused, by my own mind. Everything is tangled. It is a thing you will find happens often." Naevia places her hand over his, her eyes shining with love and kindness. Crixus sighs feeling everything was finally right with the world.

"Express thoughts and see them unraveled." Crixus shifts a little. The last time they talked about something like this she got mad and he did not see her from Lucretia's side for two days. 

"Do you recall," She tilts her head when he pulls his hand back, "when I told you about Barca, Pietros and myself?" Her mouth thins a little as she crosses her arms. 

"I do. What of it?" Her tone of voice was clearly unhappy. 

"And I told you about Gannicus and..." Crixus takes a deep breath, "Spartacus myself and Varro." Her eyes narrow.

"Yes." Naevia's voice was barely recognizable when she was mad. It was unnerving. Crixus shifts.

"I am not confused about why I did what I did with any of them. I was attracted, they were attracted. It was lust and passion and fleeting. Pleasure for comfort and pleasure just for pleasure." Naevia nods her eyes softening a little as she notices his slight distress. 

"So what is troubling you my love?" She asks reaching through the bars to hold his hands. Crixus sighs resting his head against the door. 

"I've been doing my best to ignore Spartacus. In doing so has me avoiding Varro...it seems that I'm..." He closes his eyes, embarrassed, shamed, and hurt.

"Lonely." She finishes for him. He glances up at her his shoulders sagging.

"I know you must be too and I have no right to complain. Spending all day surrounded by the men as I am. Most friendly." Naevia giggles a little taking her turn to cup his face.

"I am never lonely dear Crixus. Domina keeps me too busy to be such. I only have time to miss you because I love you so." Crixus swallows hard. He nods.

"And you are my heart. Which is part of the reason I am so lost." Naevia nods encouragingly. "The younger brother from East of the Rhine....Duro?" Naevia smiles.

"He seems nice. Did you wish for him to take Barca or more likely Pietros's place? I understand sometimes men need to release their seed, and would rather you do so with a fellow gladiator than a whore." Crixus beams at her. Truly she was a gift from the gods. 

"You have been sent from the heavens." Naevia blushes lowering her head shyly. 

"What is the issue with the man?" Crixus scoffs pulling away to lean his back against the wall.

"That is not a term I would use for him. More like a puppy. Not even vicious enough to be called a dog." Like Spartacus, they both think with disdain. "Eager, and earnest. He wishes to be as good as his brother, but he's..." Crixus struggles to find the correct word. "He's just too..." Naevia tilts her head waiting. Crixus often had issues identifying his own fucking emotions, other people's was twice as hard especially without seeing their faces. He blinks. 

"Happy." He says at last.

"What?" Naevia laughs a little in disbelief. Crixus nods firmly.

"A gladiator uses his instinct to stay alive, but nothing ignites the crowd, and ones own will to live like anger, or even fear. I've been told I have a horrid temper." Naevia tilts her head in slight agreement, but doesn't interrupt. "Auctus was hardly ever not mad, same with Barca. You recall Dagon? He was similar. Spartacus himself uses the Arena to fight out the rage he feels for losing his wife, and Varro's is more towards himself and fear of what will happen to his wife and child should he fall. Rhaskos and Hamilcar are decent but their anger is saved for the sands!" Naevia makes a noise of agreement watching Crixus pace. 

"So, what will happen to him?" He stops and looks at her. "Will he die?" Crixus's eyes widen and he slowly looks at the ground.

"The possibility of death looms over us all...however I fear he will meet his end quickly without his brother's aid." Naevia hums in thought.

"Is the thought of losing another fellow gladiator so soon after Gneaus what troubles you?" Crixus places his hands on his hips thinking.

"No...it is not. But the thought of him dying...saddens me. Which is ridiculous I don't think I've ever broken words with him." Naevia beams at him and reaches her hands out. Crixus takes them immediately. 

"Crixus. He reminds you of  _yourself_." Crixus makes a face. 

"I'm not sure that's true." He mutters. Naevia just smiles up at him until he smiles back. "But perhaps." 

"Naevia?" They hear Lucretia calling. Quickly she kisses him and rushes off. Crixus shakes his head and makes his way to the baths at last. 

 

 

"Pay attention you fuck." Agron hisses to his brother. Duro looks up from where Crixus had left bright red. Everyone was waiting for him to take the spot in front of Doctore that Agron was just kneeling at. He smiles apologetically before doing as he was told. Doctore gives him a patient look. It wasn't his fault. Duro extends his arm his eyebrows furrowed together. He just couldn't seem to focus on anything when the Gaul was around. Blandly he recites the oath, echoing the words he was supposed to without much thought. And then suddenly the burning hot pain of the brand. His hand clenches into a fist in the dirt. Duro lets out a yelp of pain before his teeth clench. More to hide the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, does he duck his head. Agron had not made a fucking noise. He was no better than a woman. Scowling to the ground he waits, some how taking comfort in the hand Doctore had on his wrist to keep his arm in place. The stench was worse as the pain. And just when Duro thought he couldn't take anymore the iron was being pulled away. Duro noticed some of his skin went with it. Doctore looks at the brand and the tool with a small frown and a glance at him but says nothing. Agron laughs and hauls him to his feet. The other gladiators were congratulating him and shaking his good arm while his brother wrapped his wound. 

"We did it brother!" Duro chimes smiling up at him. Agron scoffs. 

"Yes. But you did well. I'm proud of you." Duro feels pride swell inside of him at the praise. The blond man that was friends with Spartacus pats him on the back. Varro he thinks the man is named.

"Well done. Now the real work begins." Agron and Duro look at each other with slight concern before joining everyone else in the evening meal. Duro looks around and frowns a little. Crixus didn't come back. He had hoped the Gaul had just stepped aside to take a piss. 

"Duro." His head snaps up at Agron's warning tone of voice, a mask of innocence painted on his face. 

"Yes brother?" He asks not blinking. Agron makes a face, accompanied by a deep sigh.

"Do not think I have not noticed your interests." Duro scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Pfft. I know not of what you speak." Agron leans against a post folding his arms. 

"The Gaul?" He asks with as much sarcasm as he could. Duro looks offended. 

" _Crixus_? That's ridiculous. He's not even my type. Really Agron, you worry over nothing. There are plenty of men here and most are  _far_ better looking than that ass." Agron nods a little, moving is tongue from one cheek to the other. A sign that Duro was cornered and didn't even know it.

"I did not say  _which_ Gaul. Rhaskos and a few of the others are from Gaulia. And so was Segovax. Yet none of them came to your mind when I mentioned Gaul." Duro opens and closes his mouth for a moment before shaking his head. 

"He is the most  _known_ , of course I assumed you meant him." Agron smirks a little.

"So tell me then, who is it that you find ' _far_ better looking than that ass' because I too have seen him in the baths and would not mind a chance with him." Duro scowls stepping forward. Agron does a small side to side dance grinning broadly. "Unless you were hoping to gain his attentions of course." 

"But you do not wish for me to try for them." Duro pointed out. Agron rolls his eyes.

"I do not wish you  _dead_ you simple fuck. And if you get involved with him you will be moved to distraction instead of training, fucking instead of sleeping and therefore weakened." Agron grabs the back of his neck and puts their foreheads together. "And such a result would see you fall in the Arena. Something I can not allow." Duro sighs his shoulders sagging.

"I will not seek him out brother. Worry not." Agron nods and smiles at him before turning to get some food. Duro glances down the halls to see Crixus moving towards the bath. He smiles standing up straight. "But should he seek  _me_ out I will not discourage." Duro calls to his brother smugly. Agron rolls his eyes and gets him a bowl too. 

 

Crixus leaves the baths just as the others were entering. Spartacus was usually one of the last ones in. If he made it out now he would not have to encounter him. He smiles and briefly greets some of the others. Rhaskos asked if he was faring well. Crixus told him to eat shit, and stop acting like a woman. He was fine. Everyone laughed and at last the doorway was free for him to pass. Sighing he steps through and turns the corner quickly Too quickly it would seem as he runs into someone with a loud smack.

"Ah fuck!" Crixus merely stumbled backwards a little. His obstacle however managed to find his ass on the floor. Crixus looks down in slight surprise. Duro was grumbling looking down at his arm. Crixus sighs looking up at Agron. Duro's brother makes a face of contempt staring down at his brother. Agron tsks before gripping Duro by his left arm pulling him to his feet. 

"Are you fucking serious?" Agron asks with a clip in his voice. Duro glares at his brother.

"It was not intentional!" He looks at Crixus with a sheepish smile. "Apologies. I was not paying attention." Crixus tilts his head trying to figure out how he felt about this. Unlike anyone else he wasn't...mad that Duro ran into him. He can't say he's happy to see the fucker either though. It wasn't like with the rest of the men. Not a kinship, and it wasn't that he didn't care for the other men some he just didn't know the names of or cared to. If they died they died and it was fine. If Duro died he would be sad. If Spartacus- Crixus shakes his head.

"No need. Tend to that," Crixus says clapping Duro on the shoulder, "and welcome to the brotherhood." He gives Duro a small smile and was amazed at the wide eyed open one he received in turn. He blinks a few times before taking Agron's extended hand. "And you too." Agron nods and suppresses his own smile before pushing Duro into the baths. Crixus shakes his head a little before heading towards his cell.

"Crixus." Or not. Grimacing he turns to Spartacus. Not missing the fact that Varro was off to the side. Presumably to keep them from fighting. "I would have words." Crixus folds his arms leaning against the walls.

"Then have them and be done with it. I have no time for you." Spartacus tilts his head. 

"All I wished was to express some gratitude." Crixus raises an eyebrow. Spartacus sighs deeply glancing over his shoulder. Varro scowls and motions for the Thracian to turn around. Crixus was trying to figure out what was happening. "It's been brought to my attention that you're...avoiding me." Crixus scoffs looking away.

"Unsuccessfully it would seem." Spartacus makes a small noise glancing back at Varro again. 

"I've been told that I may have reacted...ungratefully." Crixus looks at him from the corner of his eye. "You saved my life...and I did not thank you for it." Crixus shrugs. Hesitantly Spartacus reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. Crixus looks down at it in disbelief before looking at Spartacus the same way. "Thank you." Spartacus walks away making a face at Varro who gives him a shit eating grin. Spartacus enters the baths but Varro saunters over. 

"I too have not given my gratitude." Crixus snorts.

"I did not save your life." Varro laughs.

"True. But I do not know what I would do without him. He is a treasured friend and ally." Crixus shrugs staring at the ground. He only turns his gaze upwards when Varro steps closer. "Let me repay you?" It was an offer. One his cock begins stiffening at the thought of. Crixus smirks. 

"You do not have anything I want." He taunts. Varro leans down ghosting his lips over Crixus's. 

"Don't I?" He plants open mouthed kisses down Crixus' jaw, mouthing at his neck. Crixus lets out a shaky breath as he closes his eyes. "I fear you are mistaken. There is much I have to offer." Crixus tilts his head to give Varro better access. 

"Does your Thracian bitch approve of this?" Varro chuckles darkly. 

"Would that he did," Varro lick the shell of Crixus' ear, "if only as a means to have you faster in my bed." Crixus couldn't help the smirk he gives. True. If Spartacus didn't agree with this then it would only make Crixus want to do it more. 

" _Your_ bed? You are mistaken." Varro pulls back eyebrows raised in a silent question. Crixus takes his wrists. "It is my bed that we shall spur to." Varro laughs loudly letting Crixus lead him away. Crixus smiles at him from over his shoulder, behind him he could see Agron talking with Spartacus their backs turned from the doorway. And Duro...looking hurt and alone. He forces himself to push it from his mind.


	19. Ungrateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro is in a tizzy over Spartacus's near death experience. And then when he realizes he didn't thank Crixus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this and the next few is set in the two weeks between 1X08 and 1X09. Time skips are fun because we don't know what happened. Did Crixus suck dick? Did Agron eat ass? Did Spartacus throw a giant orgy in any of the time skips we get in the show? Who knows? We don't! All we know is who is still alive and who isn't. Anyways! Again, I am trying to be good and you guys are literally the best. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and the chapter reviews. I love them and I love ya'll. Your plot bunnies keep running into mine creating more and honestly it's fantastic. We are SLOWLY getting through this season and the next one is going to be fire. (Take that as good or bad if you wish but it'll be one of those!) I hope you enjoy!

"Why do they do this?" One of the recruits asks. Agron, Varro thinks his name is. Varro purses his lips looking on as the new Gaul had his horse cock removed. The screams were almost unbearable. 

"He is being punished. I do not know the reason." Varro informs with a shrug. Rhaskos snorts.

"That is surprising." Varro and Agron turn to him, with raised eyebrows.

"Oh really?" Varro asks with a smirk. "And why is that?" Rhaskos grins at him.

"Because this fuck tried to kill Spartacus." Varro's smile vanishes.

"What?" Agron looks between the two gladiators obviously unsure of where this was going. Instead of questioning it he slowly makes his way closer to Duro, further behind Varro, but close enough to hear the explanation.

"Oh yes. Came upon him in the baths. If it wasn't for Crixus passing by and rescuing the useless fuck then we would be absent a Champion." Varro slowly turns to see Spartacus and Crixus leaving the medicus. The two were glaring at each other but the red marks on Spartacus's neck were clear as day, even with him not facing the blond. Slowly he turns back around to watch the punishment unfold. Crixus saved him. Spartacus almost died. Crixus  _saved_ him. Spartacus almost  _died_.  _Crixus_ saved him.  _Spartacus_ almost died. CrixussavedhimSpartacusalmostdied. The knowledge echoed in his head making his blood run cold. 

Varro was shaking in rage as they drove the nails into Segovax's wrists. His screams were suddenly like music to his ears. Spartacus was now standing off to the side with Crixus lingering in the background. Like a vulture waiting for his chance to feast. He clenches his hands into fists glancing over at them. Crixus  _saved_ Spartacus. Something about honoring the brotherhood as Rhaskos explains to the East of the Rhine brother's. Varro thought it was a stupid reason but regardless, saving Spartacus's life meant that he was eternally grateful. To fucking Crixus. The man held Spartacus's interest far more than Crixus's held his own. Yet now he was going to have to come up with a way to show his gratitude in a way that befitted this situation. But first;

Doctore gives them the signal that they could disperse and in three steps Varro was on Spartacus. He wraps his bicep around the Thracian's neck and drags him to Spartacus's cell. Scowling and glaring at anyone who says something or even laughs. He even shoves Donar out of his way. Spartacus stumbles a little but Varro doesn't let him find his footing. Wrenching the wooden door open he tosses Spartacus inside, sending him sprawling against the wall. Varro pauses his hand on the door, Crixus was watching him with a raised eyebrow. His mouth thins, but he nods a thanks to the Gaul and slams the door shut. 

"Varro?" Spartacus gasps holding his throat. Varro steps forward grabbing the sides of his arms.

"Do  _not_ speak!" He growls shaking the Champion. Spartacus swallows nervously eyes wild. "I  **told you** that I should stay by your side." Varro shoves him away when he starts shouting. "I  _told_ you that your LIFE was in danger as Champion!!" Spartacus hunches his shoulders looking bashful. "A gods damned RECRUIT almost killed you?!  _You?!_ You are the great and mighty SPARTACUS! SLAYER OF THEOKELES AND BRINGER OF  **FUCKING _RAIN_**!!!"

"Varro please," Spartacus whispers fidgeting as if unsure what to do with his hands. 

"DO NOT FUCKING SPEAK!" He shouts picking up an empty cup and tossing it against the wall. It shattered instantly. " _Crixus_ had to save you!"

"I did not ask him to!" Spartacus tries to defend himself. Varro shoves him against the wall, one arm holding him down across his chest as he gripped his shoulder, the opposite hand covered Spartacus's mouth.

"I said; do. NOT. Speak." His voice was almost a whisper. Spartacus's eyes searched his confused and worried, and...scared. Varro takes a deep breath. "What if he wasn't there?" He asks tears swelling. Spartacus's eyes widen at them. "If Crixus was not passing by." Varro swallows a lump of emotion. Varro moves his hand off of his mouth and traces it down to his throat where the rope imprint was still visible. "Oh." Varro breathes out his finger tips following the line gently.

"V-Varro?" Spartacus gains his attention timidly. Varro looks up at him, hand coming up to cup his face. 

"I could have lost you." His voice cracks some, the noise getting Spartacus to inhale sharply. 

"The gods alone would have to rip me from you my dear friend." Spartacus's arms wrap around Varro's waist pulling him in. Varro shifts to embrace him tightly. He buries his face into the crook of Spartacus's neck shaking again. This time, rage was not his reason. 

"Do,  _not_ bathe alone again. Understood?" Spartacus chuckles wetly.

"Lesson learned." Varro smiles.

"Good." He kisses the side of Spartacus's neck tightening his grip on him. Spartacus hums adjusting to be closer. Varro glances back at him before kissing his skin again. The Thracian arches against him with a satisfied sigh.

"Tell me this wasn't all some half cocked scheme to get me in your bed again." As he speaks Varro pulls back walking himself backwards until his calves hit the bed. Spartacus makes a face.

"If it were, I would have the rolls reversed. Crixus being the one trying to kill you and I saving your miserable life." Varro laughs a little sitting down helping Spartacus sit in his lap.

"Oh really now? I think your mind clouded after days events." He informs one hand gripping Spartacus by the thigh, the other cupping the back of his neck. Spartacus looks down at him with a face.

"How so? It seems reasonable enough to -." Varro pulls him down silencing him with a kiss. Spartacus moans slightly, opening his mouth for Varro's tongue to intrude. They tangle themselves in each other for a moment before Varro breaks them apart for some air. 

"You've got it wrong." Spartacus blinks at him, dazed. "Crixus would be trying to kill  _you_ not me. And I would have to save the day." Spartacus blinks again before frowning, and nodding, 

"True. Maybe I would have to save Crixus from you?" Varro raises both his eyebrows. "Well you are rather jealous of anything." Spartacus teases. Varro sticks his tongue out at him. They both laugh at that for a second. 

"You're insane." Varro points out. Spartacus shrugs covering the hand on his thigh with his own.

"I've been called that before." Varro stares up at him, noticing the way his eyes turn a deeper shade of blue when his mood shifts. "I have been called many things." Spartacus starts pulling Varro's hand, "Dirty, hard, rough," Varro's cock twitches when Spartacus leads his hand to his ass. "impatient." He hisses the word against Varro's lips. Varro growls gripping the Champion's ass tightly falling back onto the bed. 

"My cock is yours Champion." Spartacus looks at him surprised. Varro grins. "How shall you mount it?" Spartacus grinds his hips against Varro's humming in thought. 

"Depends." Varro tilts his head back, eyes falling closed with a groan.

"On what?" Spartacus shifts so he was able to tug Varro's subligaria down to his knees. Varro holds his hips while Spartacus lifts up and shimmies the cloth the rest of the way to his ankles. Varro kicks it off frustrated. 

"What you can handle of course." Varro smacks his ass with a huff. Spartacus laughs removing his own clothing. 

"Put your mouth where your boast is Champion and we shall see what worth they both hold." Varro challenges settling his hands behind his head. Spartacus grins wickedly at him before he swings his leg around. Varro was about to ask what he was doing but was suddenly dealing with a face full of cock, ass and balls. "The fuck?" Spartacus chuckles.

"Try this with your wife when you are able. She will greatly appreciate it." Varro smacks his ass smiling, and especially liking the yelp he got for his effort. 

"Do not tell me how to lay with my wife." Spartacus shrugs wrapping his fingers around Varro's hardening shaft. 

"Just a suggestion. In my days before marriage I used to do this quit often. It was favored among the women." Varro laughs at his honesty shifting so he could have better access.

"I see. You used to be a whore then?" Spartacus laughs just before he teasingly traces his tongue down a vein on Varro's cock. Varro groans fingers digging into the globes of Spartacus's ass.

"Used to be." Spartacus answers his breath hot on Varro's sensitive flesh. Varro traces a finger over Spartacus's hole. He likes the way it makes him shiver. Spartacus in kind, turns his head sideways to mouth at the length of his cock. Gasping Varro using his tongue to follow the same course his finger had. Spartacus mutters something Varro couldn't hear. 

"Get to work Champion. This is your apology to me." Spartacus stops short. Mouth open and hovering.

"Apology?" Varro grins as he mouths one of the testicles hanging close to his face. Spartacus whines his knees tightening against Varro's sides. 

"For scaring me half to death." Varro drags his tongue across Spartacus's entrance, loving the moan he gets, "and for not heading my warning." Varro surprises the Thracian with a quick spit. "And of course, for needing saving in the first place." 

"Valid point." He answers breathless. "I shall do my best to satisfy." Varro's laugh vibrates against him placing wet kisses anywhere he could reach. Spartacus does his best to focus on his task. After all this was  _his_ idea. But he had no clue, not the vaguest idea that Varro was  **this** talented with his mouth. The tricks he did with his tongue! Spartacus never had issues with sucking a cock before. Even in this position. But his Roman friend had him forgetting to breathe, had him jerking and choking by a few flicks of his tongue, and a couple of strokes to his own cock. Spartacus moans around his full mouth, fully aware he was drooling obnoxiously. 

"Come on my dear Champion. Get my cock nice and soaked." Spartacus keens at the burn when Varro pushes past his outer muscles. "It has been too long for you hasn't it." Spartacus starts panting pushing backwards when Varro adds a second finger. "I recall last time." Spartacus pulls off Varro's cock with a wet pop. "Spit slicked was enough, then again," Varro scissors his fingers reaching up to lick around them. Spartacus shouts, almost falling on top of him. "you were still wet and raw from the Gaul." Spartacus groans while his cock gets fisted in time with the pumping of the intruding digits. 

"Varro, please." He begs. Varro laughs softly removing his fingers and giving Spartacus's ass a slap. 

"Show me then. How well you rode him. And we shall compare, finally find out which you prefer." Spartacus scrambles to do as he was told. Varro smirks watching him, it made him leak at how much Spartacus wanted this. His heart warms when the Thracian was settling himself, gripping the base of Varro's cock to hold it in place as he lined himself up. He could feel him shaking. "Eager little thing aren't you?" He teases. 

"More than." Varro grunts in surprise when Spartacus impales himself on Varro's cock. No hesitation. "Jupiter's cock!" He cries out. 

"Comparing me to the God will not make this end sooner." Varro's breathing was heavy and his words betrayed this. Spartacus smiles, eyes closed face tilted to the ceiling. 

"I would not wish it so." Varro rubs Spartacus's thighs soothingly. Shakily Spartacus lifts himself up and whimpers as he sinks back down. Varro slowly licks his lips watching him. "Fuck the gods Varro. I had almost forgotten, hn-ng, how large you were." Varro yanks Spartacus down with a twist. Spartacus shouts his cock twitching. 

"Then let me remind you. And have you limping for the next week." Spartacus nods once lamely, Varro's cock was nestled against his bundle of nerves sending little shocks through him. Varro shifts so his feet were planted firmly on the bed, his knees supporting his lover's weight as much as his hips were. 

" _FUCK_! Spartacus screams when Varro's hips start snapping, setting a hard pace. Spartacus leans back his arms wrapping under Varro's knees to hold his thighs. The noises they made were practically disgusting. Spartacus's lips held nothing but blasphemy. Varro tilts his head watching the way his cock disappeared into Spartacus's asshole greedily. Spartacus attempts to fist his cock, but Varro snatches his wrist away, adjusting so he had both of Spartacus's in one hand behind his back. 

"Not this time. You wish to cum Champion?" Spartacus whimpers, nodding dumbly. Varro grins adding more force to his thrusts enjoying the screams it tears from his partner's lips more than he should. "Work for it." 

"Please Varro, please. I'm sorry. I won't ignore your advice ever again. I will forever be at your side, please." Varro laughs.

"That'll do." He answers rolling so Spartacus was pinned underneath him. He releases the Thracian's hands and hums when they claw at him back. The bed rocked and hit the wall loudly, adding to their intensity. Varro groans gently biting Spartacus's neck, his thrusts were becoming inconsistent, losing his rhythm. Spartacus keens arching his back not caring that he seems needy. Without warning Varro grips his cock pumping him quickly. Spartacus shouts as he's thrown over the edge, his vision momentarily going white. Varro curses under his breath crying out softly as he spills into Spartacus, his hips jarring to a stop. 

The two moan, softly as they carefully relax on the bed. It creaks a little making Varro chuckle. Spartacus hums loosely wrapping his leg around Varro's calf, rubbing in an up and down motion. Satisfied. Content. Safe. Varro lazily kisses his way up to Spartacus's lips, savoring the taste. In kind Spartacus shifts letting the spent cock slide out of him. Almost shyly he pulls back and smiles up at his lover. The blond quirks an eyebrow at the change. 

"Am I forgiven?" Spartacus asks. Varro huffs amused. 

"Obviously." A sigh of relief. "Have I ever been able to stay mad at you for long?" Spartacus beams holding him close. 

"No, and I thank the gods for that." Varro rolls his eyes.

"I might find cause to stay upset should you ever kill me in the Arena." He shakes his head kissing Spartacus's cheek affectionately.  "We will have to plan something special as a thank you to Crixus." Spartacus shifts getting Varro's attention. "What?"

"Why would we thank him?" Varro pulls back so he was sitting on his knees.

"Did you not?" Spartacus scrunches his face in confusion.

"For what?" Varro's eyes widen staring down at him.

"You are unbelievable!" Spartacus frowns when Varro stands and begins dressing. "The man saved your  _life_!" Spartacus snorts.

"He saved a fellow  _gladiator_. The man gives no shit for me, he's said so himself on multiple occasions!" Varro scoffs.

"You are a fool."

"And you have lost mind if you think I will express gratitude I do not feel, to a man who does not deserve it!" Varro makes a mocking noise.

"Give me three days and we will see your mind begin to change." Varro threatens pointing a finger at him. Spartacus sits on the edge of the bed looking dumbfounded. 

"And now you leave?" Varro laughs a little bending to place a kiss on his lips, both hands cupping Spartacus's face. He likes the way Spartacus holds onto his wrist, silently begging him not to go. 

"This is your personal cell, Bringer of Rain. Without permission from Dominus or Domina I am not allowed to sleep here with you. But trust that when I am absent you physically, I am never without you mentally." Spartacus smiles dazed. 

"I am forever in your thoughts?" Varro rolls his eyes. 

"I thought you had learned that while you were in the pits." Spartacus grimaces thinking of them. Varro squeezes his hand before taking his leave. "I shall see you in the morrow, Champion." Spartacus smiles watching him go. He doesn't agree. Varro knows Spartacus doesn't think they should thank Crixus, but there was no doubt in his own mind that the Gaul should be unappreciated. Sighing he looks around the halls for a bit, slightly aggravated. Finally he turns a corner to see Ashur leaning against a wall fiddling with his book. 

"Ah, Varro. Did you have another letter for your wife?" Varro flushes in slight shame, and mostly guilt. He had forgotten about Aurelia. 

"No. Not...yet." He was still furious with her. But...Spartacus's words held meaning. She lived. "I request a purchase." Ashur raises an eyebrow closing the book with one hand. All sass. 

"And Ashur shall provide." The Syrian smiles and opens his arms wide. "What do you seek?"

"I need this in three days, do you understand?" Varro informs him getting close enough to whisper. Ashur looks around with a click of his tongue. 

"Speak your hearts desires friend. And see it done."

 


	20. Live Fast Love Faster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lucretia and Batiatus are out to market life doesn't stop in their house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in GotA your will my hands. Lol I take requests and do my best to manage it while sticking to my story line and being as close to cannon as possible. So far I think I've done a good job. I am so grateful for you guys sticking with me and being patient. Thank you for your ideas and support. I love your comments they're amazing and ya'll are too! All of a sudden I have decided there will be a goal with this fic. I want it to be stupid long. While also being good. Well written and put together. SO since we have hit chapter twenty and are still barely halfway through season one, with the flashbacks of season two then I think the goal is possible. Lol. Thanks again and as always I hope you enjoy!

"You're sure you will be alright?" Lucretia asks tossing part of her sash over his arm. Gaia laughs softly taking her friends hands into hers. 

"I am  _positive_. At most I will take a bath. Go and enjoy yourselves at market. The two of you seldom get any alone time to just enjoy each other's company." Quintus smiles at her. His father being back was still an issue. And the man was out and about doing gods knows what. Making deals with probably anyone in sight. To put them further into debt. To keep them more firmly rooted to the spot as a damned Lanista. Old fuck. 

"Gratitude. If you wish for one of the men to be brought up for your ah," He chuckles rubbing his face, "viewing pleasure, you may do so." Gaia and Lucretia share looks causing the women to giggle. 

"Then the gratitude is mine." 

Gaia waves them off at the door, slightly disappointed that Quintus decided to take Barca with them. He would have been nice to admire up close. She smiles flipping her hair. However there were better, and closer. Laughing to herself Gaia sways her way through the villa. Maybe she would think about marrying Solonius. Being a Lanista's wife suited her friend so well. Plus they were in charge of such  _dangerous_ people. And not to mention gorgeous. Gaia rolls her eyes remembering the last time she saw some of his men. It seemed Quintus was blessed to find and purchase all the  _attractive_ gladiators. Smirking she wraps an arm around a nearby guard and whispers something in his ear. The man nods and moves to purpose. 

"Do you need assistance ma'am?" One of the slave girls asks. Gaia smiles taking her hand. She recognizes her as the one eager to lose her virginity. 

"Not yet. Draw a hot bath and then stand in shouting distance." 

 

"You summoned me?" Gaia turns at the voice with a smile. The water was warm and came up to her hips, but there wasn't enough petals to have her modest. Just the way she wanted it. 

"Crixus." She beams he had sounded so surprised. So...unsure. The Gaul smiles shyly before making his face passive. "Join me?" It wasn't exactly a question or an offer. The man seemed hesitant as he discards his subligaria and steps into the water AS he does this Gaia hums in appreciation. the Gaul was truly of a size. He looks down at the water surprised. "Something the matter?" She asks a laugh not far from her voice. He shakes his head with a small smile. 

"No, apologies. The water the men use is simply not this warm." Gaia moves forward, gently cascading some water over his chest. She watches it eyes sparkling in delight. 

"It is a wonder, is it not? To have such riches, but to be denied them?" Crixus frowns a little looking her up and down. She notices the blush hot on his cheek and the way his gaze keeps darting to her chest and away just as quickly. 

"Are you denied anything?" He questions out loud shifting from side to side. Gaia scoffs. 

"In the grand scheme of things no I am not." Gaia traces a hand up his arm liking the way he shivers. "However; hearts true desires are forever out of reach." Crixus looks at her confused, unsure on where this was going. "Such things are a heavy burden to bare. Which is why the sultry pleasures of life offer the truest distractions." His eyes widen as a clarity unravels within him. 

"Distractions. Are used only to avoid true issue. One such as yourself does not strike me to be one to hide truest nature." He supplies taking one step back feeling the heat rise in his face. Gaia tilts her head. 

"What do you know of me, Crixus?" He swallows hard glancing around, as if for assistance. 

"I have heard the slave girls whispering of you. They admire you." Gaia blinks a little surprised. "I have seen you with Domina and Dominus. Your attitude and aura is that of a goddess. Not one to be disobeyed. Someone even the gods should fear." At this she laughs loudly before she sits on the little stone step they have. 

"You blaspheme! And flatter beyond inflation." Crixus shifts again looking down so his hair falls in his face. Gaia traces the top of her breast dying to know what that scruff felt like between her thighs. "Yet shy away from more acceptable activities." Crixus makes a small noise but doesn't look up.

"Apologies if I have insulted you." Gaia shakes her head watching him. Here she was thinking that Lucretia was becoming so much more than one of those awful "proper" Roman women. Yet two female house slaves and one of the  _gladiator's_ stood before her as a virgin. There were never going to be any children if there was to be no fucking. 

"Do you not find me pleasing?" She questions. True if he favored cock to cunt then this would be a fruitless endeavor anyways. His eyes widen as he looks up.

"Please do not think such. You are very pleasing to look at and I am certain you would be to the touch." Gaia chuckles a little.

"But you do not wish to?" Crixus shifts again.

"I fear I would make a blundering fool of myself." Gaia nods and motions for him to sit next to her. He does after a moments pause. 

"Then let us start with something simple." She hands him the cloth. "Wash me." He stares at the rag and then looks at her. Gaia loved how big his eyes were. "Explore my body by cleaning it. And I shall instruct you on things you need to know, when you will need to please a woman." Crixus nods slowly still unsure why this was happening. 

The two were silent for a while. Crixus starting with her neck, and shoulders. He was thorough. Not wishing to mess anything up. It warmed her to have someone touch her with such innocent tenderness. Gaia sighs contently as he works his way down her arms and even gets in between her fingers. As he was cleaning her finger nails it dawned on her while this may be the first time he's bathed a woman, it was not the first time he has bathed another human being. She knows that he was once owned by Tullius. So, perhaps not so virginal after all?

"Something wrong?" He asks noticing the way she was studying him as he worked. She smiles reaching out and brushing his hair out of his face. 

"I was trying to figure out what Tullius had you tasked with. Being built as you are." Crixus blushes dark red, turning away looking shamed. "Did he fuck you?" She asks genuinely curious. Crixus sighs pulling and pushing her so her back was to him. Carefully he moves her hair out of his way and begins washing her back.

"No." He states unhappily. "He did not." Gaia opens her mouth to ask another question but he beats her to it. "Nor did he have me fuck him." He sounded almost impatient. So Gaia relaxed and waited. Not an easy thing to do. 

When the silence became to painful she couldn't help but speak. She  _did_ keep herself from turning around though. A feat she praises herself for. 

"So, what did he do? Simply have you bath him every night?" Crixus snorts a little shaking his head. 

"If only that were the truth." He sighs turning her forward and working on her stomach, completely ignoring her breasts. Rude. "He would have me service the slave girls." Gaia's eyes widen. "But only orally." I never knew the reason why." Gaia searches his face, committing it to memory. She carefully takes the rag out of his hand even as he was raising it to finish his task. 

"Gratitude. For your assistance and your honesty. You may go now." Crixus's shoulders sag a little but he nods and does as he was told. She waits until he was gone before calling for a guard.

 

"You summoned me?" Gaia beams at the strong sure voice. The voice of a man who knows what he is doing. Someone who wasn't haunted by their past actions and Dominus.  

" _Gannicus_!" She coos excitedly. 


	21. Dare Not Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oenomaus talks with one of the new Gladiators hopefully getting him to make some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are absolutely amazing. Thank you for your continued support, comments and kudos. The chapter break downs are great! I encourage them highly! The sudden mystery will be explained in a few chapters. I promise!

He sighs heavily leaving Batiatus with a shake of his head. His Dominus was always overly ambitious. But sending Spartacus to the pits was something he simply out right disagreed with. Oenomaus nods the guard who lets him through the gate glancing at the men as he passes through. Before rounding the corner he hears some voices. He knows Spartacus has just been put to cell. Perhaps Varro was asking about his victories. Only sure curiosity slows him down enough to peer around the wall. He was surprised to see Hamilcar and Varro standing and glaring at one another. Obviously the blond wins the stare down. He noticed the way Spartacus was all but collapsed against the wall. It wasn't a surprise to him. The Thracian must be exhausted. Oenomaus wasn't close enough to hear exactly what Varro was saying but he was close enough to see when Varro noticed Spartacus fall asleep. And he was _definitely_  close enough to see the blond reach over and ghost a kiss to the Thracian's lips before settling back glaring over at the other Gladiator's who haven't given them a second glance since Hamilcar. Opting sleep versus a fight. Thinking deeply Oenomaus heads to his own cell. There was much to do in the morning. 

 

 

Oenomaus instructs the men to stand in a circle of sorts. He pairs them up, and has them watch each other fight until he says otherwise. Rhaskos goes with Donar as he has always had issues fighting those taller than him. After a while he puts Varro with Crixus to allow the man to blow off some steam. He smirks at the surprise on their Champion's face at the ferocity of his opponent. Barca joins them after prepping Spartacus for the pits and dropping him off to the side. Varro doesn't last much longer after that. Oenomaus sighs, at last understanding what distracts the otherwise skilled fighter. Crixus scoffs at the Roman but they clasp hands in respect. 

"Gnaeus," The fuck would be grateful to use a sword. Can't have him forgetting how to use one after all. "Hamilcar." The two step into the circle/lineup he has nodding to each other. "Begin." He barks at them. It didn't take long for the tan gladiator to find his face in the sand. Oenomaus' mouth thins. 

"Study the flaws of your opponent." He steps forward. "Strike, with your  _mind_ as well as your sword. Fail to use your wits in the Arena," He glances at Gnaeus before looking back down at Hamilcar pointedly. "and risk  **tumbling** after Spartacus, into the pits." The Thracian looks up at his name, and not for the first time does the Doctore feel a small amount of pity for the man. Barca and Crixus nudge each other laughing along with some of the others. He notices Varro's hand clench into fists. "The man is no base humor to be laughed at. He is a tale of caution." Spartacus glances at him before looking away. "Ponder on that, while you fill your bellies. Eat!" He instructs walking away. It was a few moments later after Pietros takes some food and water to Spartacus that he calls for Varro. it was important that Crixus and Barca be distracted. 

"Yes Doctore?" He asks once they were out of sight of the others. He sighs and folds his arms. 

"You have stayed away from Spartacus this morning." Varro nods his shoulders sagging a little.

"I have stuck to training." Oenomaus nods looking him up and down. 

"He has become dear to you?" Varro blushes a little at the question. So he wasn't used to liking men. Much like another blond he used to know. 

"A dear friend yes." Was the answer he was given. Yet Varro was looking at the ground. Oenomaus raises an eyebrow. Gaia was a  _dear friend_ to Lucretia. And he knows exactly how dear of friends Barca and Pietros were to Crixus. They think they could hide something like  **that** from him. Smiling softly he places a comforting hand on Varro's shoulders.

"Friends are important here. One could lose mind otherwise." Varro looks up, and the poor man looked almost hopeful. "Spartacus proves difficult to kill, even for the pits. Perhaps lifting his spirits, or showing your support will aid in that endeavor." Varro frowns a little stepping back. Oenomaus lets his hand fall back to his side.

"I do not understand Doctore? I was under the impression you did not care for Spartacus." Oenomaus chuckles clasping his hands behind his back.

"You mistake intent. It is my job to secure the lives of the gladiators. While he does not stand one currently, he could again. And  _you_ are one now." Varro nods a little, still confused. "I have noticed the man causes some...distraction in you. Born of good will and concern I am sure." The blush was once again staining his cheeks as he nods again a bit more firmly. 

"I have not had opportunity to find common ground or hold civil conversation with any of the other men." He admits with a quick lick of his lips. Oenomaus smiles knowingly. Nor does he  _want_ to.

"Understandable. You stand as Roman and hold no kinship with the rest of these men. Spartacus knows freedom as you do, I understand." The gladiator looks shocked but stays silent. "Do what you can for your friend. But do what you can for yourself too. If you are not focused on your opponent in the Arena, you could fall. And where would that leave your wife  _or_ Spartacus?" Varro pales slightly. "And Varro?" A worried look, "Rhaskos is kinder than he lets on. Play some dice with him once in a while. Or share drink while Spartacus is in the pits. Donar as well."

"Yes Doctore." Oenomaus nods curtly before walking off. He makes it to his cell and lights some of the candles. Sighing he sinks to his knees and sends a prayer to Melitta. After a moment of silence he blows out the candles and sinks back onto his ankles.

"Gannicus, I could use your assistance in this....wherever you are. Send wisdom." He chuckles a little, "And some of that luck you seem to piss and shit."


	22. Base Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaia and Gannicus have some fun in the tub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you there would be more Gaia! Also I am more proud of how I ended Ch. 20 than I should be. Fucking cliff hanger, I laughed when I imagined ya'lls reactions. Which is rude and I apologize but still. I'm doing my best to keep updating regularly. And as a result the plot bunnies are just POPOPOPOPOPOP which just helps our (so glad it's our now) goal to make this thing hella long and hella good. Anyways as always comments, kudos, bunnies and summaries are appreciated and encouraged. I hope you enjoy!

Gaia smiles seductively looking the Celt up and down. He  _was_ really well built. And he wasn't a virgin like Crixus. Maybe she could help Lucretia and Quintus use that to their advantage later. She hums at him, picking up one of the pink rose petals she had in the bath. He watches her trying to hide a smirk of his own while she traces the petal in between her breasts, around the curve of one and across her collar bone. 

"Can you take a guess as to why I asked for you?" Gaia arches her back a little, letting the petal fall back into the water in favor of using both hands to mess with her hair. Gannicus scoffs slightly a smile at last breaking across his face. 

"You mistake me for either a virgin or a fool." With a flourish he removes his clothing letting his growing erection spring free proudly. "And I am neither of those things." He informs her, stepping into the water. Gaia gives him a slightly shocked open mouthed smile before standing to meet him in the middle. 

"And there is no objections? To being used in such a," She pauses for dramatic effect tracing circles across his chest, " _primal_ manner?" Gannicus reaches down and firmly grips her rear pulling her flush against him. 

"Objections or not, how could any man deny himself such a treat, when presented in such a manner?" Gaia giggles wrapping her arms around his neck playing with some of his hair. 

"Well spoken. But I would know your thoughts." Gannicus squeezes his hand fulls in thought studying her face. He knows she wasn't a normal Roman woman. But to insult his Domina's friend would end in punishment. Champion or not. But, she wanted to know his thoughts. And he was anything if not honest.

"I am a man. When a willing cunt, especially one as beautiful as you, wants me I have never denied myself. I have no care about being used for a woman's base desires. In fact, I encourage it from time to time." He chuckles moving to kiss down her neck, grinding against her slightly. Gaia sighs, almost as in relief. 

"Then what is it you wait for?" Gannicus pauses, pulling back to give her a quizzically amused look. 

"You are indeed a unique woman." He informs her. Gaia doesn't have the chance to reply as he picks her up moving to sit on the stone step and covering her mouth with his in one fluid motion. She moans reaching in between them. Her gasps fades into a laugh as she has to use both hands to grip his cock. Gannicus jerks his hips upwards into the contact with a small groan. Gaia shifts quickly lining herself up, teasing herself with his cock head. Gannicus was panting slightly looking at her amazed. Her eagerness was new and welcoming. Not like when he has to convince a whore that he's not like the other men they've had. That he's  _good_ at this and that he  _wants_ them to  **enjoy** it too. He shivers when she swipes a finger over his slit. Gaia lets her eyes fall closed as she licks her finger tip, lazily making circles with her tongue in time with her hips. 

Gannicus was straining in her grip. Her wrist twisting and pumping deliciously. Gaia giggles a little when he smacks her ass. His teeth grind together as he keeps his mind from reeling. To keep himself distracted  Gannicus mouths at  the closest nipple rolling it between  his teeth, giving a gentle suck when she arches, the hand in her mouth moving to grip the back of his head holding him in place. Gannicus could feel a small measure of self control slipping. Gaia was teasing him and it wasn't something he was used to. But he wasn't some inexperienced recruit either. Gannicus's eyes fly open when the image of Crixus appeared in his head. He had to choke back a small noise in the back of his throat at the sudden throb his cock gives. Gannicus's heart starts pounding in fear. Swallowing hard he stands up holding Gaia in place opting to mouth at her neck. She squeals wrapping her limbs around him at the sudden change. He was panting, suddenly it was urgent for him to be buried inside of  _her_. Female. Woman. Cunt. 

"Desperate are we?" She asks, unaware of the change that has happened to him. Gannicus chuckles to hide his worry.

"You have been teasing for too long." Gaia shouts when he enters her with one hard thrust. Words fail as he sets a hard pace. Her back bows while her finger nails scrape at his scalp. He pulls back to gaze at her. Gannicus refuses to close his eyes, letting them roam across her and more importantly watch the point where his cock disappeared inside her rapidly. His arms and shoulders started to ache at having to hold her up, having her match his thrusts, but he didn't care. So long as he kept focus. He liked tits and cunt, not cock and balls! He grunts in slight frustration when he thinks of Crixus again. Something was wrong with him. The more he thought about the stupid Gaul and his eager to please face, the faster he thrusts. Gannicus's vision was blurring and it was difficult to not imagine a certain ass in place of a most willing cunt. 

Gaia uses one hand to grab one of her breasts shuddering as the aching heat in her lower belly draws her tight. She could tell he was getting close by the way his hips started snapping out of pattern. She whimpers, worried that she might not finish, when he surprises her again practically yanking her off of him. Gaia shivers with a smile when he turns her around, entering her from behind. Normally a man Gaia was with did this when he wanted to fuck her ass, but Gannicus seems to have done this to have better access to her cunt with both hand and cock. She cried out in delight at the added friction of his calloused fingers, furiously pleasuring her clit. Without much warning her whole body convulses, as her orgasm  _physically_ rocks her body. 

"Ohohooooh!!" Gaia screams one hand reaching behind her to claw at Gannicus's neck, the other gripping his like it was her only tether to the earth. Gannicus slams into her a couple more times before shuddering to a stop. 

"Aw,  _fuuck_." He moans sinking into the water. The two of them sit still, panting. Gaia was the first to recover. She hums and smiles lazily, using his hand to make circles against her. Gannicus blinks, slowly pulling out, almost wincing at the sensitivity. "I did not please you?" He asks uncertain. The Celt has always prided himself on making sure his lovers were satisfied before he was. Gaia giggles turning around and planting a hard kiss to his lips. 

"Hmm, you did indeed. Worry not. My sexual appetite is just fit to rival Jupiter's himself." Gannicus smiles a little relieved. 

"Then I shall aid in the endeavor." Gaia tilts her head, wondering what he meant. She didn't have to wait long. Gannicus lifts her out of the water and has her seated on the side. Her eyes widen a little when he falls to his knees, his large hands spreading her thighs. Gaia bucks a little as his mouth closes over her. He might be a God of the Arena but she has never met anybody as skilled in this as him. In moments she was shouting, her voice echoing off the walls. Gaia throws her head back, with her eyes closed she could easily picture Crixus instead. He had said he was experienced in this. She wonders if he would be as good as the Celt. She keens and whimpers embarrassingly but she couldn't stop herself. Gannicus's own noises were perverse and they quickly sent her over the edge again. He pulls back grinning up at her looking oh so proud of himself. She laughs shakily and pets his hair.

"That, was truly magnificent." The slave girl pears around the corner.

"Apologies Domina and Dominus return." Gaia sighs, for the first time in her life upset by the news that Lucretia was going to be near soon. She nods and motions for the girl to leave.

"I do hope I will get the chance for a repeat performance." Gannicus chuckles stepping out of the bath and dressing.

"I'm inclined to agree." He nods at her and follows a guard back down and out of sight. Gaia shakes her head and makes herself presentable. She meets the two in the halls with a bright smile.

"Welcome home! I do hope the two of you enjoyed yourselves." Quintus laughs softly smiling at the two women as they embrace and kiss cheeks. 

"Well enough. I'm guessing you found something to keep yourself entertained?" Gaia laughs loudly. 

"I spent almost the entire time in the bath." Lucretia's eyebrows raise and there was a small disbelieving smile.

"Is that all?" The two women burst out laughing. Quintus rolls his eyes and shakes his head motioning for them to move to the balcony. 

"Come. Let is see what Doctore has the men into today." 


	23. Tall Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron has developed a shadow. One he does not care to have. Especially when he needed to focus on receiving the mark of the brotherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys are (im) patiently waiting to see what Varro has in store for Spartacus and I KNOW you guys are not only going to like it but what Varro has in stored for Crixus as a thank you. Those two separate chapters are coming (ha) y'all's way and many more with tons of por- I mean plot. Who are we kidding no I don't. Lol. Your comments kudos and plot bunnies are always welcomed and of course please enjoy this!!

"Do you know that man?" Segovax asks him, causing pause. Confused Agron straightens his back and glances over his shoulder to where the Gaul had nodded. 

"What man?" There  _was_ at least twenty seated over at the benches. The recruits have yet to finish their training and as such were not welcomed to fill their bellies yet. 

"The tall blond in the back." Segovax informs with a scoff. Agron glances at his little brother and they share a face.

"No? Should I?" Agron asks. Duro shrugs.

"What is he called?" The younger asks, before Segovax could answer Doctore cracks his whip and has them start hauling beams of wood. The four recruits groan but do as instructed. He feels slightly embarrassed to be doing this in front of everyone but there was nothing to it. If his brother was going to live then the two of them needed to get that damned brand.

 

"Donar!" Rhaskos snaps his fingers in front of his tall friends face. Blinking Donar looks down at the bald gladiator and smiles apologetically. 

"Apologies. Was it my roll?" The rest of the dice players jeer at him while Rhaskos hands him the die. 

"Ever since the recruits were lined up you've been distracted." Donar scoffs.

"Fuck your words. If I'm distracted it is because you are slow with your roll." He tosses the die and there were cheers as he loses. Rhaskos rolls his eyes and pats his back.

"Sure thing you shit." Rhaskos looks up and calls out, "Varro! The dice call your name!" Donar glances at the Roman and the way he angrily leaves Spartacus' side. Perhaps he and Rhaskos have been a bad influence on their friendship.

He keeps his head down while Crixus throws a fit over the recruits being allowed to eat. He glanced up when Spartacus' reminds them that Crixus is no longer Champion. But he didn't care either way if he was being honest. His eyes slide over to the tall East of the Rhine brother. 

"Fucking Gauls." Donar chuckles at that. Rhaskos raises an eyebrow at him but he ignores him.

 

"He keeps looking at you brother." Duro comments as they finish their food. Agron glances up in time to see the blond giant turning away. Again. He scowls in the man's direction before setting his food down.

"Pay the fuck no mind. Once we get the mark he and I will have words." Duro looks up at his brother and laughs softly. Agron turns his glare down to him. "You find something fucking amusing?" Duro grins stupidly at him. 

"He likes you." Agron smacks him upside the head. 

"Focus on training." He notices the way Duro's eyes find Crixus. "Hey!" He grabs his brother by the back of his head. Duro makes a noise of annoyance when Agron presses their foreheads together. "Focus. And live." Duro rolls his eyes but nods.

 

 

Agron listens to Rhaskos explaining Segovax's fate in mild horror. Duro glances up worriedly. Doctore cracks his whip signaling their cue to disperse . Agron wraps and arm around Duro shoulders protectively while Spartacus gets dragged to his cell by his blond friend. With a noise of discontent he glances over his shoulder at his own yellow haired issue. 

"What is the fuckers name again?" Agron asks out loud. Duro looks first to his brother then follows his gaze. 

"Donar. I've told you a dozen times at least." Agron smacks him upside the headed facing forward again headed towards the baths. Their test was to wait until tomorrow now thanks to this whole debacle.

"I give no shit for the man. So I keep forgetting." He informs shoving his brother through the doorway. Duro whips around pointing an accusing finger.

"But you keep asking!" Agron scoffs. 

"Mind your tone brother. And remain focused." Crixus walks in behind them with some of the rest of the men. The brothers fall silent opting to clean themselves in silence. Agron smirks noticing Duro turn pink when Crixus strips. He shakes his head looking towards the Gaul. It was true, the man was of a form. Agron lets his eyes trail down and fall on his ass. Truly one of the best he's seen. Agron was sure if given the chance he would enjoy making it bounce against his cock. He looks at his brother again. Although he doesn't think he would even with the chance. 

 

 

"Agron!" He grins stepping forward. Loving the fact that once again he goes first. Show his brother how it's done. "You will face Hamilcar." Batiatus orders. He made easy work of climbing up onto the wood work they had laid out. If they were any closer to the balcony Agron figures he could just easily reach up and haul himself onto it. He would have to store that information away later in case it was useful. They were handed their swords and shield's with a bunch of cheering. Rhaskos clapped loudly. 

"Come on Agron!" He hears Duro call out encouragingly. He smirks waiting for the tanner man to go first. Hamilcar's height difference to him was laughable. He finds it a mild shame that the gladiator wasn't his type. Normally he loves darker skin. It didn't take long for him to start blocking the attacks. Their swords clashed loudly, from the corner of his eye he could see even Crixus was paying attention. Which means; Agron shoves Hamilcar away from him, dancing around so he could see Duro without showing his back or flank. Yep. Fucking idiot was all but ogling the former Champion. He tsks his tongue before dancing out of the way of a good swing. Hamilcar rolls out of reach, and a loud jeer catches his ear. Agron glances to the side to see Donar, arms folded and smirking. Agron feels his face grow hot when their eyes meet briefly. 

"Fucking shit!" He screams when a burning pain erupts in his arm. He takes a step back looking down at his arm in disgust. Hamilcar grins. Agron's vision blurs red. As if from a distance he could hear Duro laughing. But it was more like a memory. He hears someone give out a battle screech, it almost sounded like his own. His arms flew in rapid succession, blocking a sword, knocking it and the shield of his opponent to the ground. Chest exposed Agron gives a satisfying kick to the middle of it. The sound echoed and cleared his head as he watches in mild horror as Hamilcar hits the sand hard. Grimacing he jumps down and offers his hand. A small cut like this didn't need the onslaught he gave. His temper had always needed work. Agron was a little surprised when Hamilcar accepts his hand and allows himself to be hauled to his feet. He takes Doctore's silent order and stands off to the side. He places a hand on Duro's shoulder squeezing tightly for reassurance. If they were ever to escape, to be free once again. His eyes slide to Spartacus. They were going to need to make friends. The Thracian catches his eye and Agron smirks a little before turning away. 

"Duro." Agron grins proudly when his brother stepped forward. He is confident that Duro could knock down just about anyone of the Gladiators. "Facing Rhaskos." Agron nods approvingly while his brother climbs up the rigging. The two dance around each other, extra carefully. Their swords clang a few times, but nothing major. Agron smiles softly, thinking about what a good job Duro was doing. Of course the thought was barely through his mind before the moron gets tripped.

"Fucking idiot!" He grumbles. He was aware of Spartacus moving closer, but his eyes were lazer focused on his brother. 

"Calm yourself. It would do nothing but get the two of you killed if you stepped in." Spartacus says softly. Agron scowls not even blinking anymore as he watches Duro roll out of the way and managed to catch Rhaskos off guard. But Rhaskos wasn't as slow as Hamilcar. The two clashed swords. 

"I'm going to  _strangle_  him." Agron growls clenching his fists. Varro laughs cheerfully making his way over as well.

"Which one?" He teases. Agron glances over his shoulder, unsure why this attention was directed towards him. He wasn't even sure if it was welcomed. He continues paying attention to the fight. 

"I have not decided." In all honesty the indecision was what kept him rooted to the spot. Through the wood he noticed Donar staring at  _him_ instead of watching the match. Duro was faster than Rhaskos due to his slimmer frame, the only thing that saved his life. Agron swallows hard. He managed to get behind Rhaskos aiming his sword directly to the back of his bald head.

"Duro!" Doctore shouts his hand tightening on the whip. Agron straightens his shoulders a little, silently begging his brother to wait. Now was not the time. Duro however smiles brightly lowering his weapon. A few chuckles was the signal he needed, Rhaskos stands and turns around rolling his eyes and extending his hand. Awed the idiot takes Rhaskos' hand practically shaking in delight. He hops down and Agron beams in pride. The two share a hug before Agron muses Duro's hair. 

"You need to be more careful." He says clasping a hand on the back of his neck pressing their foreheads together. Duro snorts.

"Says you.  _I_  made it out without a scratch." Agron laughs sticking his tongue out. Duro makes a face smacking Agron on the chest to shove him away. 

Donar watches the two smack each other for a moment before Batiatus gains everyone's attention. Remarking on how they fought well. That they shall receive the mark and join the "honored" brotherhood. Donar rolls his eyes, tuning the Roman out. It was a speech he's heard at least three different times. A wave of pity rises in his chest when Agron kneels in front of Doctore, reciting the oath. He grimaces when the iron lands on Agron's arm. Agron clenches his jaw and straightens his shoulders but not a sound escapes him. The brand hissed while in contact with his skin. But it was pulled away soon enough. Agron sighs standing up, receiving some claps to the shoulders.  Donar smiles when Agron had to get his brother's attention. It would have been easier to be attracted to the younger brother. It did not miss his notice that Agron eyes the Champion a dozen times a day. The issue was that he also didn't miss how Agron's eyes always end up drifting back to him. 

Just then Agron laughs at his brother hauling him to his feet and Donar has to stifle a moan. Did the fucker  _have_ to laugh with his tongue out like that? He had a pretty mouth and Donar could think of plenty of things to do with it. Sighing he steps forward to congratulate the two of them when he hears Varro and Spartacus warn the brothers that the real work begins. He was close enough to touch, but Agron and Duro share a confused look before going to get food. Not sparing him a second glance. Shaking his head he simple gets his own bowl of food and sits off in the corner with Rhaskos and Hamilcar, listening with one ear. 

Agron bites the inside of his cheek when Donar passes him. The man was close enough to touch. Yet says nothing. It wasn't every day he found someone taller than him, and his cock was stirring in mild interest. If he wasn't careful he would have distractions. Much like he kept warning Duro about. Growling to himself he turns to once again remind his brother that now they were  _Gladiators_ and Gladiators didn't need any such distractions, and if he needed to fuck a hole he could buy a whore. Agron blinks hard in disbelief when he turns and sees Duro staring down the corridor Crixus had left from a while ago. His brother looked lost and lonely. Vulnerable and  **weak**. 

"Duro." His head snaps up at Agron's warning tone of voice, a mask of innocence painted on his face. Little shit.

"Yes brother?" He asks not blinking. Agron makes a face, accompanied by a deep sigh. Predictable, little shit at that. He's always done this. Even when they were children.

"Do not think I have not noticed your interests." Duro scoffs and rolls his eyes. Agron blinks hard at that. 

"Pfft. I know not of what you speak." Agron leans against a post folding his arms. 

"The Gaul?" He asks with as much sarcasm as he could. Duro looks offended. A good little actor. 

" _Crixus_? That's ridiculous. He's not even my type. Really Agron, you worry over nothing. There are plenty of men here and most are  _far_  better looking than that ass." Yeah right. Agron nods a little, moving is tongue from one cheek to the other. A sign that Duro was cornered and didn't even know it.

"I did not say  _which_  Gaul. Rhaskos and a few of the others are from Gaulia. And so was Segovax. Yet none of them came to your mind when I mentioned Gaul." Duro opens and closes his mouth for a moment before shaking his head. This should be good. 

"He is the most  _known_ , of course I assumed you meant him." Agron smirks a little. Trap set, and time to close it.

"So tell me then, who is it that you find ' _far_  better looking than that ass' because I too have seen him in the baths and would not mind a chance with him." Duro scowls stepping forward. Agron does a small side to side dance grinning broadly. "Unless you were hoping to gain his attentions of course." Got him. His brother was always easy to taunt. 

"But you do not wish for me to try for them." Duro pointed out. Agron rolls his eyes. No shit. 

"I do not wish you  _dead_  you simple fuck. And if you get involved with him you will be moved to distraction instead of training, fucking instead of sleeping and therefore weakened." Agron grabs the back of his neck and puts their foreheads together. "And such a result would see you fall in the Arena. Something I can not allow." Duro sighs his shoulders sagging.

"I will not seek him out brother. Worry not." Agron nods and smiles at him before turning to get some food. Agron glances up noticing Donar watching him from the corner of his eye. Bastard was staring to get on his nerves. "But should he seek  _me_  out I will not discourage." Duro calls to his brother smugly. Agron rolls his eyes and gets him a bowl too. Fucking idiot. 

 

Agron laughs as they headed to the baths, while Duro whined about his arm hurting. His little brother always bitched about wounds twice as much. Gained him attention that he treasured. Even when Agron knew it to be false pain, he still couldn't help doting on Duro. His brother was his world. Shaking his head he turns to corner after Duro, just to hear a loud slap of skin on skin. Duro stumbles and falls on his ass with a,

"Ah fuck!" Agron makes a face looking down at Duro. Something  _else_ his brother was good at. "Accidental" seduction. He's seen it a hundred times. There was something about Duro that men seemed to be drawn to. Not that he could blame them. His little brother was a fucking delight. But the men he chose. Agron looks at Crixus. He tsks before dragging Duro to his feet. 

"Are you fucking serious?" There was a clip in his voice when he asks this. 

"It was not intentional!" Duro gives Crixus a sheepish smile, "Apologies. I was not paying attention." Agron makes a face and sighs. Bull shit. For a moment he thought Crixus was going to start throwing punches, instead he shakes his head and claps Duro on the shoulder.

"No need. Tend to that. And welcome to the brotherhood." Crixus gives Duro a small smile and Agron rolls his eyes sighing deeply at the star struck one Duro gives Crixus. It was wild and innocent enough to give the Gaul pause. Agron saves him from any further mind meddling by extending his hand. Crixus takes it with a hard shake. "And you too." Agron suppresses his own smile as he shoves Duro through the walk way into the baths. 

The two move off to the side, staying close to the exit while cleaning themselves. He was more than aware of Donar in the far back corner. It took all of his will power not to sneak a peak. Mostly because his neck  _burns_ with the knowledge that the man was watching him. The man's gaze was like a fire of late. It almost scared him. Agron was about to give up and break words with the man when Spartacus walks in. He bumps into Duro a little. The German brother's were close enough to hear a small whimper. Duro jumps looking panicked. Agron frowns standing in front of the Champion.

"Are you alright?" Spartacus's face turns a deep red as he looks down. 

"I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about." Agron tilts his head trying to figure him out. 

"Not to cause concern but...you're  _Spartacus_. Bringer of Rain. Slayer of Theokeles, the Shadow of Death.  **Champion** of Capua....and," Agron lowers his voice noticing over Spartacus's shoulder that Crixus and Varro were practically grinding against each other on the wall, "and uh," He turns so that both their backs were facing the doorway, grimacing when he realizes Duro had followed his gaze, "you  _whimpered_." He whispers to Spartacus. The Thracian scrunches up his nose.

"You are mistaken." Duro makes a face looking at him. 

"And you are defensive. If something ails you-" Spartacus steps away.

"Nothing does. Now, if you excuse me I..." His voice trails off when he turns around noticing for the first time that Varro wasn't there. His hands ball into fists. "That shit." He growls. Before they could say a word Spartacus stomps in the same direction the other two gladiators had left in. Agron shakes his head. 

"Fucking Gauls." Duro nods in a pout. "Don't worry brother. You can do better." Duro nods again a little firmer. 

"How do my chances look with Donar?" He asks looking up at Agron. Agron's eyes widen a little before he smacks Duro upside the head. 

"Shut up." They laugh, and only stop when they notice someone laughing with them. To their right was the Syrian. Ashur.

"I would stay clear of the German my friends." Agron raises an eyebrow glancing over at the blond. "He rarely takes a whore, and always a woman. I have never seen him show interest in a man." Duro tilts his head.

"You know everyone's preferences?" Agron kicks him a little, trying to get him to shut up. Syrian's were not to be trusted. Ashur chuckles a little.

"Oh, Ashur  _knows_ everything that goes on in this Ludus. For example," He sits down heavily with a sigh, grinning up at them. "If you follow Spartacus, down the hall to the left the cell on the corner belongs to Crixus." Agron raises an eyebrow. "The Champion is more than likely," Ashur tilts his head back and forth for a second, "aaah,  _joining_ in on some of the fun the Undefeated Gaul and Varro are having with a certain," He smiles ruefully, "toy." The brothers look at each other confused. "It is quite the sight to see, I fully recommend it. Iiiif you think you can do it without getting caught." A challenge then! The brothers grin before rushing out the door. Agron glances behind him to see Donar standing up. The  _cock_ on that man! He feels his cheeks grow warm and hustles faster. He needed to find a reason to stay away from him.

Donar watches the German brothers talk to Ashur for a moment before running out of the baths. He sighs standing up to finish cleaning himself. It was clear to him at least that Duro was interested in Crixus. Something his fellow Gladiator needed in his opinion. Duro would be the perfect little bitch for Crixus. For anyone he decided to present his ass to, probably. He shakes his head pouring water over himself thinking about Agron. The elder would be a challenge. Fighting for dominance more than likely. And oh, how satisfying it will be when he submits. Donar smiles lazily wrapping the towel around himself as he leaves the baths. It wouldn't take long to train Agron to be more willing. A couple of good fucks here and there. On his way back to his cell he notices Doctore. An idea begins to form in his mind. 

"Doctore!" He calls out stepping faster. Oenomaus turns looking mildly surprised. 

"Donar. Is everything alright?" He asks clasping his hands behind his back. Donar grins broadly. 

"Yes. Forgive me, if this is too bold." Doctore nods a motion to proceed. "But, I had a suggestion for when Crixus returns to the sands in a fortnight." Oenomaus raises an eyebrow.

"Go on?" Donar grins. 

"I think it would benefit the two of them if he was paired with Duro for a while." Oenomaus's eyebrows shoot up.

"Duro? He has just this very night revived the mark. He won't even have had a match in the Arena when Crixus returns to training." Donar nods again,

"Exactly. Crixus has been away from the Arena a while and will need to build back up some momentum. And Duro is going to need a  _true_ Champion's guidance. Just like Gannicus guided Crixus." Doctore blinks in shock. That was very insightful. He nods curtly.

"I will think on it." Donar smiles before running off to his cell. If he could get Agron alone, then maybe he could start to convince him that they would be good together. At the very least they could have some fun. 


	24. Varro's Surprise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashur finally delivers as promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BadadaDAAA it's here! Varro's mystery purchase has arrived! Thank you for being so patient. I know it's frustrating but there are so many things to be added to this story. Luckily it all helps on the way to having a super long ass fic! Lol. Comments, kudos, bunnies, and summaries are always welcome. I hope you enjoy!! Crixus ass appreciation is in the next chapter. Also my friend finally finished the Series!!! Time to play catch up with the story!!

Days. Three. Whole. Days. Spartacus was relentless, impatiently trying to get Varro to tell him what he had in store. On the first day he kept cornering him. But it quickly became apparent that no matter how threatening Spartacus was: his friend was not intimidated. Varro laughed at his face when shoved against a wall, smirked while remaining silent and even kissed him to prove his point! It was infuriating. And Varro found it absolutely adorable.

On the second day, Spartacus was refusing to talk to him. While also teasing him to near madness. Spartacus openly stared at the elder German brother with heated gaze anytime Varro tried to talk to him. At one point Crixus made a small appearance and was treated warmly by pretty much the whole brotherhood before he returned to the medicus. When everyone's back was turned he pantomimed sucking Crixus's cock. That earned him a slap against the head. Spartacus constantly bent over when he was  _sure_ Varro was looking. He licked his lips and sucked on his fingers during meals loudly and obnoxiously. Ignoring the incredulous stares the rest of the gladiators and some of the guards gave him. Someone, (Doctore) mentioned to Batiatus that Spartacus was acting strange and he spent the rest of the afternoon in the medicus checking for a fever or infected wound. For a moment Varro was worried about Crixus and Spartacus having any sort of alone time but from what he was told, (Thank you Rhaskos) Crixus saw him enter and promptly left without a word. Opting to stay in his cell. Varro groaned at that knowing Spartacus now had time to think and to plot. And that Crixus was stewing. 

The third day, Varro was checking on his purchase with Ashur. Being assured it would be in his hands before training started tomorrow. And that the rest of the gladiators knew where to steer clear of and when tonight. Varro smiles when Spartacus leaves his cell, blinking into the morning sun. The smile isn't returned, he noticed amused. Spartacus crosses the sands with a scowl grabbing Varro's wrist and dragging him down the hall. The rest of the brotherhood laughs watching them, he noticed some of them clapping. Varro wonders if Spartacus was aware of what the rest thought of them and their relationship. Spartacus pulls him into the empty baths. Letting go to strip. Varro's eyes widen watching him with interest.

"Something I can help you with Champion?" Spartacus glares at him, yanking him down as he sinks onto a bench. Varro hums when their lips collide. Spartacus cups his face with both hands wrapping his legs around Varro's waist rocking up against him. Varro breaks away panting heavily, as he reaches in between them to remove his subligaria. Spartacus moans feeling the hot thickening cock slap a little against the back of his thigh. With a small grunt he rolls them so Varro was on his back. The Roman grins up at him stroking the Thracian's own aching length. Spartacus cries out at the contact but instead of thrusting his hips into Varro's grip he smacks the hand away and wiggles his way down swallowing Varro to the base in one breath. Varro keens, twisting his hips upwards as he was assaulted by Spartacus's tongue and mouth. 

Hollowed cheeks suck him, the back of Spartacus's throat working furiously as he gags himself on Varro's cock. He was slurping perversely at the excess drool this caused. The vibrations jolting up Varro's spine, he arches his back mouth open in a wordless shout. It had been too long, and the sudden onslaught was overwhelming. His balls were tightening up to his body. Heat was pooling and swelling. Every muscle he had was drawn tight like a twine: 

And then Spartacus was gone. Gasping and collapsing back onto the bench Varro looks around to see the Thracian sitting opposite of him, smirking proudly, albeit catching his breath. 

"Tell me." Varro's mouth drops sitting up. 

"You're joking? Hours. Mere  _hours_ is all you have left and **this**  is what you decide you're doing?" He growls disbelieving. He could see from here that Spartacus's cock was leaking and red with need. 

"Yes. Because I'm dying to know." He answers looking victorious. Varro scoffs reaching over and pulling Spartacus to him by his hips.

"You are a fool." Varro informs him with a gentle smile. Spartacus beams down at him, moving so his knees were braced on the bench either side of Varro's own hips. 

"Perhaps." Spartacus lazily wraps his arms around Varro's shoulders one hand lazily tangling into the blond curls. "But does that not make you the bigger?" Varro snorts shaking his head. He trails kisses along Spartacus's collar bone eliciting a broken whimper. 

"I'm at your mercy that is the truth." He states his breathing uneven. Varro chuckles tracing a finger down Spartacus's spine. He teases one of Spartacus's nipples with his mouth preening at the noises he makes. 

"Mercy is not what would call this." Spartacus grinds against him, the two groaning in sync. Varro's cock gives a hard throb that splits a smile across the Thracian's face. It made his heart soar to be wanted this badly. Varro drums the tips of his fingers against the Champion's entrance watching with shaky breath at the way Spartacus arches, eyes closing.

"No. And of course we were taught no missio." Spartacus's eyes fly open at his words. He looks down at him in surprise. Varro gives him a shit eating grin before picking him up, planting a hard kiss on his lips and practically dropping him onto the bench. Spartacus snarls when Varro pulls back and dresses. "I will deal with you tonight, Bringer of Rain." Varro laughs as he leaves. 

 

"Spartacus is of a mood." Crixus comments leaning against a beam. Doctore nods his hands clasped behind his back. The glance over to where the Thracian was angrily strapping on his manicae grumbling to himself. 

"Varro has been avoiding his company since the other night."  Crixus raises an eyebrow, turning to look across the way to where Varro was getting some water, hungrily watching Spartacus work. 

"For what purpose?" Doctore shrugs. Spartacus's scream has them turning to look. He leaps from the chest that held the wooden swords and was now attacking the pulvinus in a rage. Crixus looks over to Varro who was grinning from ear to ear. Crixus scoffs. "Let us hope they make up soon." 

 

 

It wasn't until after evening meal did they meet again. Varro smiles brightly draping an arm across his shoulders leading him to the baths. Spartacus frowns noticing that there was nobody else was there with them. Confused he turns while Varro strips. He chuckles a little at the confusion but instead of offering an explanation he steps into the water motioning for Spartacus to do the same. Varro beams at the Thracian's hesitation but patiently waits for him to join. Of course he does, what else was he going to do. However, Spartacus blinks dumbfounded when Varro picks up a cloth and a strigil and starts washing the smaller man. 

"Varro, what point does this have?" Varro chuckles at his question, being gentle but firm. It was a strange sensation to have someone else bathe him. 

"Besides the fact that I wish to? Hush now and trust in my plans." 

"Hmmm...." Was his reply. It took a few moments to be as clean as Varro wished for him to be. He had even squatted down to get down even to Spartacus's ankles. 

"Turn around my Champion." Spartacus flushes at the term, doing as instructed. Varro usually calls him any one of his new titles in jest or a tease. This one was endearing. His heart clenches wondering how on Earth his friend could think he isn't the love Sura had told him about? "Very good. Now," Varro runs his hands up and down the sides of Spartacus's thighs his voice growing raspy, "bend over."

Eyes wide, Spartacus bends down a little, bracing his hands on the side of the stone basin. Varro hums his hand going to his lower back, forcing him just a little more angled. Two strong calloused hands grip the globes of his ass. Kneading and squeezing, pulling them apart to expose him better. 

"Varro?" He asks when nothing happens and nothing is said.

"Hm?" Spartacus glances over his shoulder. Varro wasn't looking up at his face. Rather staring intently at Spartacus's hole. It was strangely intimate. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" He surprises himself by having to swallow down his nervousness. Varro's eyes flicker to him before smiling warmly. 

"Admiring." The flat of Varro's tongue drags across him, if it wasn't for the hands still holding him Spartacus would have leapt out of the water at the sudden contact. "What you so willingly present for me." His initial yelp of surprise, echos into a low moan as Varro continues to lavish him. His knuckles turn white against the stone, his head was bent, panting heavily he could feel his legs start to shake when Varro pushes a finger past the outer muscles. He could feel his cock leaking, eager for any sort of friction as a second was added. "So eager." Spartacus whines pushing backwards. If all the Roman had in store was for privacy then he was going to make his friend suffer. As nice as it was, being a secret this long was unnecessary. 

"Varro." There was a slight warning tone in his voice as he pushes backwards. The blond chuckles standing up removing the digits much to Spartacus' dismay, his hands caress Spartacus's sides, and back. Rubbing circles on his ass a soft look on his face as he watches Spartacus struggle to keep hold of himself. 

"Calm yourself, you will get what is deserved." Spartacus shivers when the head of Varro's cock nestles between his cheeks. Spartacus cries out softly when he was breached. The harsh intake of breath from Varro sends warmth spreading through him and he couldn't help but smile. "Are you enjoying yourself, my dearest friend?" Varro's voice was soft and kind. His thrusts gentle and sweet. Spartacus hums in delight, enjoying the feel of Varro's hand on his shoulder. 

"Three days is much too long to wait." He tosses the comment over his shoulder, face tilted towards the ceiling. Varro chuckles, on hand moving up, his fingers gentle wrapping around Spartacus's throat. 

"Agreed. However, there is much to do." Spartacus's eyes slowly open, the grip on his neck tightening ever so slightly, "to convince you." Spartacus gives a small laugh, more out of confusion than anything.

"Of what?" Instead of answering Varro suddenly releases his throat and roughly grabs the short brown hair, his hips snapping at a bruising pace. Spartacus shouts, the noise echoing off the walls around them. The water sloshes as their skin slaps. Varro smirks at the way Spartacus's ass bounces with each quick thrust. He pauses long enough to turn Spartacus around lifting him up and shoving him against the wall, legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Varro revels in the whimper of want and need Spartacus makes in the short amount of time they were parted. 

Spartacus tried to catch his breath, but there wasn't a chance. Varro's fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs, hard enough to bruise. His mouth covered Spartacus's neck and it was all he could do not to beg for more. He could feel Varro's teeth grazing lightly against his skin. His cock twitches in agitation of being ignored. He tries to fist himself but Varro snatches his wrists together pinning them against his sides. Spartacus's head bangs against the stone as he throws it back with a groan of frustration. Varro beams and mouths at his neck slowing his hips to a stop. 

"What's wrong Spartacus?" He shivers at the way Varro said the name, "You're so close. I can feel the way your greedy hole is tightening," Spartacus pants at the words. They were hot, dirty and  _true_. He arches his back twisting and writhing, anything to get Varro to  **move**. 

"Please," He gasps when is attempts prove futile. "Please Varro." Varro grins. 

"And Varro answers." He whispers in Spartacus's ear. Spartacus clings to him, a scream being torn from his lips as Varro resumes his torment. His mind was swirling, his vision was blurred, nothing else mattered except the way he could feel every muscle in Varro's body tightening up. 

But with a small curse, Varro slams into him once more, stilling his movements as he spills his seed. Spartacus stares at him in shock. Varro was usually so attentive to his lovers needs. Varro sighs deeply, looking all the satisfied Spartacus itched to feel. His skin felt as if it was on fire, his blood was pounding in his ears. Varro smiles down at the leaking cock nestled against his stomach. 

"Uhm.."

"Do not fret my Champion. I am not through with you yet." Varro comments walking them over to the edge. Spartacus lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Varro sits on the edge of the tub, juggling to hold Spartacus in one hand while reaching into his clothes with the other. "Now just hold still aand-"

Spartacus jerks upwards with a scream. Varro's cock has been replaced by something foreign and solid. And very cold. 

"What the fuck?" He asks loudly attempting to stand and remove the intruding object. His muscles contract around it impulsively when he moves causing him to freeze. Varro gives a slow, rueful smirk. 

"I told you, I have to convince you." Spartacus scrunches up his face in confusion. "If you wish for this to be removed, then you must thank Crixus for saving your life." Varro informs him one hand soothingly petting Spartacus's thigh, the other twisting whatever the hell it was Spartacus found himself filled with. He moans at the sensation, and the sudden realization it wasn't long enough to hit that deepest spot within him that Varro had barely teased earlier. Eyes a little glazed he thrusts into the air a choking noise slipping out when it shifted.

"I will do no such thing. The man does not deserve it." Spartacus's breathing was ragged. Varro chuckles evilly. 

"As expected of you to say." Varro gives him a swift kiss before pulling the two of them out of the water and toweling him dry. Spartacus stands rooted to the spot watching him. There was no way Varro would  _actually_ leave him like this? "Now that toy, stays until you change your mind." Spartacus hisses from sensitivity as Varro dresses him.

"You're joking." He says hopefully. Varro beams at him.

"No. We will see how you fare in the morning." 

"The recruites have their test tomorrow." Spartacus complains his cock pressing against his subligaria painfully. Every turn of his hips had this new toy sending sparks through him. 

"Yes they do. A long time coming. Honestly you'd think it would have been done sooner." Varro grins smugly patting Spartacus on his shoulders. Spartacus winces at the new sensation. His eyes widen realizing he's going to have to walk, to sit, to try to sleep, to  _train._ He groans when Varro nips his neck. "Enjoy your pride Bringer of Rain." Spartacus's mouth drops in shock and horror as Varro walks away. 

"Fuckin' cunt." He mumbles taking his first shaky step. A few deep breathes and he thinks he can manage it. So long as he didn't bump into anything.


	25. Varro's Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro thanks Crixus in the best way he knows how. Spartacus even joins in. Two out of the three of them know that they have an audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was originally going to have this chapter and the last chapter be the SAME chapter. But I felt it flowed better as two. And now of course there is another addition to our super long fic. I started a new Spartacus fic which is a slight (a little more than slight) AU. Tiberius lives, which spins around to Kore living, but other than that everything is the same. Anyways there's going to be Crixus backstory the next chapter and of course this one has been anticipated too! Thank you guys for your patience and your support, and the comments kudos, plot bunnies and chapter summaries, oh my GOD I love the chapter summaries. Thank you guys! I hope you enjoy!

Crixus grins as his head falls back against his bed. The thunk makes Varro chuckle as he busy himself with mouthing his way down Crixus's chest. He teases at the Gaul's nipples liking the way it makes his legs fall open. The two hum grinding against each other for a moment. Crixus muses himself by playing with Varro's curls. They were lazy and languid with their movements. Varro removes Crixus's towel kissing around his hips, sucking on the boniest part he could find being extra careful not to leave a bruise. Crixus hisses and sighs at the sensation eyes falling closed enjoying himself. He's missed physical contact. He wishes avoiding Spartacus didn't come with avoiding Varro either. Maybe that's why he was interested in Duro?

"Your mind wonders." Varro whispers in his ear, licking the shell. Crixus shivers with a smile. "Is my gratitude boring you?" Crixus chuckles shaking his head.

"No. I am enjoying myself. Probably far more than I should." Varro beams wriggling out of his subligaria. 

"Trust when I say you deserve to."

"He deserves a lot of things." Both Varro and Crixus jump and the voice from the door way. Varro whirls around ready for a fight while Crixus rolls off the bed doing the same.

"Spartacus!" Varro gasps in relief and a little bit of annoyance. Crixus shakes his head scowling.

"You fucking cunt." He sighs. Varro puts his hands on his hips. 

"You startled us." Crixus snorts but was ignored. 

"And the two of you are lucky it is only me." He snaps. Varro quirks an eyebrow eyes flickering behind Spartacus as if someone was going to round the corner any second.

"Fair point. I suppose we were a bit hastey." Varro grins mischievously, "Perhaps you'd like me to give you my gratitude the same I give Crixus his?" Spartacus folds his arms in an obvious pout.

"You are very much aware of what I want from you right now." Crixus's eyebrows raise in surprise at the hostility. It hasn't escaped anyone's notice that the Thracian has been in a sour mood for a few days. Varro chuckles.

"I do believe he is going to have to wait his turn." The other two look at him. "Or was that all your gratitude had to offer?" He taunts Varro folding his arms. Varro slowly smiles looking between the two of them. Both cross armed and on the brink of a tantrum. 

"I think we can arrange something." His eyes slide to Spartacus with a wink. It was returned with a smirk, "The three of us have proven resourceful in the past." Spartacus and Varro start stalking over to Crixus. 

"And Crixus was so gracious to show us a wonderful way to get what we want." Crixus rolls his eyes at them with a shake of his head. 

"Shut the door you simple fucks." He turns to walk to the bed smacking Spartacus on the ass as he does. 

The broken shout gives him pause. 

Crixus slowly turns to Spartacus who had grabbed hold of Varro for support. The Thracian was panting and shaking. Crixus tilts his head. 

"Remove. It." Spartacus growls his hands turning claw like as they wrap around Varro's throat. 

"The fuck have you done to him?" Crixus as incrediulously. Varro plants a gentle kiss to Spartacus's temple. 

"Once he strips and offers ass I will show you." Varro carefully shoves Spartacus into Crixus moving to shut the door. Crixus catches the Thracian growing concerned at the whimper and the shivering. 

"Please." He gasps out. Crixus leads him to the bed while Spartacus frantically removes his subligaria. 

"Don't help him Crixus." Varro demands snatching the Gaul's hand away from Spartacus. Crixus wished to ask all sorts of questions. However he didn't wish to seem as if a dewy eyed virgin either. Spartacus groans when he was finally free. His erection bobbing and leaking with need. It looked borderline painful. "Roll over," Varro instructs softly falling to his knees at the end of the bed. Spartacus whines his movements slow. Crixus' eyes widen when Varro grips his hips and angles the Thracian's ass high in the air. 

"A plug." He States blankly looking at what was supposed to be Spartacus's hole. Barca told him about these things. Even whispered to him about longing to give him one. But the idea terrified him. Walking around, training? Besides thanks to Lucretia it wasn't exactly an option. Varro grins up at him proudly.

"He's been doing so well with it." Crixus looks down at him.

"Why?" Varro makes a face and shrugs.

"Had to convince him you needed to be shown gratitude for saving his ungrateful life." Crixus looks back at Spartacus in shock. He was a little in awe that the Roman was able to do this. Tame the Thracian. The man was even silent on the bed albiet still shaking. 

"So if I were to do this," Crixus gently takes hold of the base pulling back ever so slightly. Spartacus keens his back arching. Crixus licks his lips. Varro nods encouragingly. 

"Fuck the Gods!" Spartacus screams when the toy was roughly shoved back insid him fully. Varro sticks his tongue in between his teeth with a grin.

"I ask a moment of you Crixus." Varro says shifting to sit on the bed next to Spartacus. The Champion scowls at him clenching his jaw and his fists. Crixus turns and twists the plug eyes hooding at the way Spartacus writhes. 

"Talk plainly, or see opportunity missed." He warns. Varro shrugs. 

"Just trying to figure out which you would prefer." Crixus tears his eyes away from Spartacus to blink at Varro.

"I do believe I said plainly." Varro laughs reaching over to cup the nearest globe of Spartacus's ass.

"Which ass, you fuck. His," he leans in closing his mouth over Crixus' nipple, Crixus' breath hitches, "or mine." Spartacus moans having managed to sneak his hand down and squeeze the base of his cock, releaving a small measure of the pressure that has tormented him the last day and a half. 

"Well now that won't do." Crixus murmurs reaching down to pull his hand away. Spartacus whines trying to jerk his hand back. The position he was in favored the Gaul and he lost the small struggle. Varro leans back stroking his re-hardening cock smirking. 

"Then again. We could always-" 

"No." Crixus cuts him off curtly. If he never let Barca then he wasn't going to let this blond fuck. His cock gave a twitch the image of a certain grinning Celt swimming into mind. He shakes his head with a chuckle. "It did not end in your favor last time if you recall." Varro grimaces remembering the night of Illythia and her friends visit. 

"Last time?" Spartacus asks twisting to look back at them. Crixus beams for some reason touched by the fact that Varro didn't tell him.

"You can learn later." Varro turns his attention back to them with a grin. 

"Better idea." Before either of them knew it Varro was wrestling Crixus onto his back taking his place on the bed next to Spartacus. The Thracian looks at him startled. "I'll take it out if you help hold him down." 

Crixus' eyes widen as his heart pounds against his ribs. This couldn't be happening. Did he put his trust in the wrong people? Varro was a Roman after all. Spartacus himself scrambled to do as he was asked, wincing at the movement. 

"Nngh." Crixus frowns looking at the Thracian. It was odd not to feel betrayed by the man. The desperation to rid himself of the current toy lodged in his ass probably was the cause. He struggles with the two of them, Varro spreading his legs while Spartacus held his arms above his head. 

"I'll fucking kill you." Crixus growls unable to kick them off. His back arches in his attempt. Varro bites his thigh earning a jolt. "Fucking. Cunt!" Crixus was tempted to shout for help. His pride rejects the idea instantly. 

"Calm down you fool." Varro laughs reaching over to his chest digging around until he finds the cloth pouch. "This is just to ensure you don't pull the same stunt as last time." Spartacus makes a face. 

"What the fuck?" Crixus and Varro ignore him. Varro busies himself with preparing the marble smirking at something Crixus was unaware of. 

"Now hold still." Varro instructs gripping the back of Crixus' thighs lifting them. Spartacus curses under his breath when Crixus bucks in shock when Varro starts lapping, at his entrance. Crixus was struggling against his restraint. His vision was crossed with the way Varro was eating him out. His nails dig into Spartacus's forearms, he bites down on his lip to keep himself from screaming. 

"Varro." Spartacus snaps his hips jerking. The Blond grins up at him with a wink. 

"I'm aware." He scoffs. Pulling back he situates himself in between Crixus' legs angling the marble cock against his entrance. Spartacus groans watching intently. Varro smirks crooking a finger at him. There was a small mental debate on how to keep Crixus down and still angle himself where Varro wants him. 

"Hurry up you cunt." Crixus whines trying to get closer to Varro. 

"That's better." Varro praises once Spartacus made his way over. 

" _FUCK_!" Spartacus screams when Varro ungracefully pulls the plug out. There was an awful squelching noise as his muscles rejected the motion. Crixus groans when Varro suddenly slips two fingers inside of him. 

"Easy there you two. We might be finished before we get started." He teases, his digits scissoring and curling barely brushing against Crixus' prostate purposefully. Spartacus pants heavily his abused hole pulsing. 

"Fuck you." He whispers resting his head on Crixus' shoulder. Varro smacks him hard across his ass humming at the shout. 

"Later. Right now is the Gaul's turn." Spartacus shoots him a death glare. "Do as instructed and I will see you to completion." Varro promises. Spartacus blinks but nods slowly. 


	26. Seeing is Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Duro stumble across something they've never thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know cliffhangers are terrible. But this felt like a better transition than just hitting the paragraph button a few times. Plus this gives a chance for more details without sounding repetitive. Sorry there was a delay. I'm on my phone for the next couple of days but I'm still typing!! Comments to kudos plot bunnies and chapter summaries are so appreciated and welcomed it's not even funny. I hope you enjoy.

"Why do we have to see it?" Duro snaps. His mood had soured after they left the baths. Agron hisses at him to be quiet, slowing down so their footsteps weren't heard. He understands his brothers sudden reluctance to go spy on their fellow gladiators. Especially with the burns still so fresh. He glances at Duro's arm with a small frown. It seemed to have scarred more than his own. Curse his brothers sensitive flesh. 

"Quit belly aching. You sound like a damned woman." Agron whispers peering around the corner. Duro mocks him silently with a roll of his eyes. He stops when Agron scowls at him. "Besides. It might help your pursuit of the Undefeated Gaul." He says nonchalantly in hopes of raising his brothers spirits. 

"I had thought you wished I didn't pursue." It was a statement not a question. Agron sighs turning to him. 

"No. I do not. However if he is close to the Champion then we might be able to befriend him. And if we ever attempt escape then the two of them on our side will be a good plan." He explains patiently. Duro brightens with a loopy grin.

"And Varro shall be helpful in that endeavor as well!" Agron snorts moving to stand  _just_ outside Crixus' cell.

"The man yet stands Roman. Spartacus and Crixus are more than likely topping the cunt." He says confidently. 

 The two freeze when Varro approaches the door. He smirks at them cracking it holding a finger up to his lips with a 'shh'. He winks and walks back to Spartacus and Crixus. Agron's eyes widen to see the Champion in such a submissive state. He couldn't quite hear what Varro says but he sees when he snatches Crixus' hand away from the Thracian's clothes, eyes widening when his leaking cock bobs free. He and Duro suck in a harsh breath, for different reasons. Agron swallows hard his own cock thickening at the sight before him.

"What the fuck?" Duro whispers. Agron covers his mouth without looking at him, eyes glued to the trio. He almost groans when Varro forcefully shifts Spartacus around presenting ass for viewing. Duro makes a choking noise while Agron bites his lip.

He's seen them in shops. Heard of them being used but he's never actually seen one in action. 

"A plug." Crixus' voice carries. Duro makes a small noise behind his brother's hand. 

"He's been doing so well with it." It was difficult to make out what Varro said but the brother's take a cautious step closer. Crixus looks down at him.

"Why?" Varro makes a face and shrugs. Spartacus glances backwards, a small glare present on his features; until he spots the two. Agron stiffens, making eye contact. Duro looks at his brother in distress, especially when the hand over his mouth tightens. 

"Had to convince him you needed to be shown gratitude for saving his ungrateful life." Agron scowls. If Crixus was truly about the brotherhood, then he didn't  _need_ any gratitude. 

Duro nods in agreement. Spartacus was lucky Crixus was there to save him. Should have shown how thankful he was days ago. 

Both brothers miss what was said before Crixus gently takes hold of the base pulling back ever so slightly. Spartacus keens his back arching. Agron bites his knuckle eyes glued. Duro's eyes rake over Crixus's body moaning at the sight of the Gaul's hardening cock. 

"Fuck the Gods!" Spartacus screams when the toy was roughly shoved back inside him fully. Duro twitches his hand instinctively groping himself through his cloth. He didn't favor the Thracian, definitely not the way Agron did, but he couldn't deny the erotic way Varro and Crixus made the man look. 

"I ask a moment of you Crixus." Varro says shifting to sit on the bed next to Spartacus. The Champion scowls at him clenching his jaw and his fists. Crixus turns and twists the plug eyes hooding at the way Spartacus writhes. Agron releases his brother's mouth his hand slipping into his subligarium. Duro glances at him, but noticed how Agron was fully distracted. He lets out a shaky breath following suit. 

"Talk plainly, or see opportunity missed." He warns. Varro shrugs. Agron shifts, checking the hall to make sure they were still the only two there. 

"Just trying to figure out which you would prefer." Agron's eyes snap back to Varro.

"I do believe I said plainly." Varro laughs reaching over to cup the nearest globe of Spartacus's ass. Agron squeezes the base of his cock to alleviate some of the pressure. He hears Duro beside him make a small whimper. 

"Which ass, you fuck. His," he leans in closing his mouth over Crixus' nipple, "or mine." Spartacus moans Agron strains his neck a little trying to see what Spartacus was doing with his hand. His own cock throbs in his, to see the Thracian desperate enough to try and relieve himself. Crixus murmurs something, reaching down to pull him away. Spartacus whines trying to jerk his hand back. The position he was in favored the Gaul and he lost the small struggle. Varro leans back stroking his re-hardening cock smirking. 

"Then again. We could always-" 

"No." Crixus cuts him off curtly. Duro leans against the doorway his knees going weak. He was a pile of mush whenever Crixus took control like that. Agron rolls his eyes, fisting himself while Spartacus wiggles. "It did not end in your favor last time if you recall." Varro grimaces. Agron and Duro pause glancing at each other. Did...did Varro and Crixus? Did Varro  _fuck_ Crixus?!

"Last time?" Spartacus asks twisting to look back at them. As out of the loop as the brother's. Crixus beams for some reason. Duro huffs. 

"You can learn later." Varro turns his attention back to his partners with a grin. 

"Better idea." Before any of them knew it Varro was wrestling Crixus onto his back taking his place on the bed next to Spartacus. The Thracian looks at him startled. "I'll take it out if you help hold him down." 

Crixus' eyes widen as Spartacus scrambled to do as he was asked, wincing at the movement. Agron bites his lip having a new angle to see Spartacus. If he sat up on his knees the Thracian's cock would be in the Gaul's face.

"Roman shit. We should stop him." Duro whispers harshly. Agron looks at him in a panic and shakes his head no with a firm look. Then they would have to come up with a reason as to why they weren't in the baths. Why they didn't just keep walking when Varro cracked the door. Crixus struggles with the two of them, Varro spreading his legs while Spartacus held his arms above his head. 

"I'll fucking kill you." Crixus growls unable to kick them off. His back arches in his attempt. Duro couldn't help but thrust gently into his hand, the way the Gaul looked was awfully inviting. Varro bites his thigh earning a jolt. "Fucking. Cunt!" Duro fantasies about him calling out for help, and being the one to save him. Oh how he would be rewarded, if only the Gaul wasn't so prideful.

"Calm down you fool." Varro laughs reaching over to a chest digging around until he finds the cloth pouch. "This is just to ensure you don't pull the same stunt as last time." Spartacus makes a face. 

"What the fuck?" Spartacus and Agron mutter at the same time. Crixus and Varro ignore him. Varro busies himself with preparing what the brother's make out to be-

"Jupiter's cock!" Duro chokes. Agron covers his mouth again, his cockhead leaking at the sight. Varro glances over to the door directly at Duro and Agron. Agron feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. They were caught. Yet: the Roman smirks smugly turning back around.

"Now hold still." Varro instructs gripping the back of Crixus' thighs lifting them. Spartacus curses under his breath when Crixus bucks in shock when Varro starts lapping, at his entrance. Crixus was struggling against his restraint. Duro's hand starts working his shaft almost drooling at the sight before him. Crixus's nails dig into Spartacus's forearms, he bites down on his lip to keep himself from screaming. Duro curses stepping off to the side pushing Agron to do the same. Spartacus saw them.

"Varro." Spartacus snaps his hips jerking. The Blond grins up at him with a wink. 

"I'm aware." He scoffs. Pulling back he situates himself in between Crixus' legs angling the marble cock against his entrance. Spartacus groans watching intently. Varro smirks crooking a finger at him. There was a pause when Spartacus tries to do as he was told and still keep Crixus down. Agron shifts to get a better view his wrist twisting realizing Spartacus could just lean down a little more and-

"Hurry up you cunt." Crixus whines trying to get closer to Varro. Agron scowls. The Gaul didn't deserve this. Cunt was always speaking bad of Spartacus acting as if he was better than everyone.

"That's better." Varro praises once Spartacus made his way over. 

" _FUCK_!" Spartacus screams when Varro ungracefully pulls the plug out. There was an awful squelching noise as his muscles rejected the motion. Crixus groans when Varro suddenly slips two fingers inside of him. 

"Easy there you two. We might be finished before we get started." He teases hand working furiously while Spartacus pants heavily. Agron wishes they were at a different position. He could only imagine Spartacus's puckered hole pulsing with the need to be filled again.

"Fuck you." Spartacus whispers resting his head on Crixus' shoulder. Varro smacks him hard across his ass, humming at the shout. 

"Later. Right now is the Gaul's turn." Spartacus shoots him a death glare. "Do as instructed and I will see you to completion." Varro promises. Spartacus blinks but nods slowly. 

"What the fuck?" Duro mutters watching Varro whisper instructions they couldn't hear. Agron's gasps when he understands what Varro was going to have Spartacus do. Duro on the other hand watched in amazement as Spartacus twisted himself around keeping his hips elevated in order to keep his cock and balls out of Crixus's face. 

"You intend to do this? While taking me with the marble?" Crixus asks in disbelief. Varro laughs with a shake of his head. 

"I intend to do a lot. I hope you don't mind but I had snuck this in here the other day." Crixus tilts his head watching Varro reach into his trunk and pull out a large bag. 

"What the fuck is that?" Duro asks slowing his hand in interest. 

"What the fuck is that?" Crixus asks. While Varro digs. Spartacus shakes a little, Agron seeming to be the only one who notices. 

"Spartacus." Varro states pulling out something the brother's couldn't see. Without warning Spartacus swallows Crixus' cock while Varro slides the marble inside his awaiting hole. Crixus' back arches bow like, as a strangled shout escaped him. Varro grins looking at Spartacus addressing Crixus, "Keep quite or we will be discovered." Agron and Duro flinch when Varro looks over his shoulder at them. 

"Remove the Thracian and slow your ha- _and_!" Crixus snaps back while Varro twists and pulls, being relentless with his movements. Duro moans softly imagining himself in Spartacus's place. He could only imagine how the Gaul tastes. 

Agron groans, more than anything wishing to could be Crixus, if only for this moment. He thrusts into his fist, the ache in his cock unbearable. Neither of them can recall a time where they was more aroused. 

"Agron," Duro whispers worriedly. Agron makes a pained noise leaning against the wall instead of answering. "I don't think I can last." Agron doesn't even look up at Duro.

"Then don't you cunt." He growls quietly. Varro glances at them again, as if making sure they were still watching. Agron sucks in a harsh breath when Spartacus looks up making eye contact with the elder brother. Spartacus hollows out his cheeks obscenely never looking away. Crixus moans loudly shifting Agron's attention.

"You have to be quieter." Varro laughs lifting the Gaul a little to grab one of his ass cheeks. Spartacus gags a little at the movement shooting the blond a glare. Varro hums squeezing and kneading the flesh in hand. 

"You-agh- you're not making it e-easy!" Crixus' hips buck up into Spartacus's mouth head falling back with a thunk. Duro bites his hand feeling his balls tightening. It had been too long since he had been with anyone and the sight before him was more sexual and erotic than anything he has ever witnessed. Varro bites his lip as he grins. 

"Then I suggest you fill mouth." All four of them freeze, Varro laughs slowing down the marble's thrust. Spartacus moves to pull off Crixus's cock but Varro pushes him back down. Crixus' eyes blaze with challenge. 

Agron's eyes widen when ever so slowly, Crixus reaches up gripping the base of Spartacus's cock, and just as slow slipping it inside of his mouth. Spartacus's eyes squeeze shut as he moans low. Crixus does the same and quickly the two find themselves distracted. Varro leans back once more playing with the bag in his lap. Out if the corner of his eye Agron notices his brother resume pleasuring himself, but he was more interested in the leather straps Varro was securing around himself and the blue silky looking sash. Unlike Duro he was more than willing to draw this out. 

 "Shh, it'll be alright." Varro reassure's as he pulls the marble out. Crixus' eyes fly open and he releases Spartacus's cock with a wet pop noise. Spartacus's makes a noise of displeasure as Varro pulls him up so he could access the base of the Gaul's cock.

"And what the fuck is that for?" Crixus demands his voice gravely. The sound has Duro whining. 

"To allow me time to finish."Varro explains sounding calmer than any of them thought he should. Agron raises an eyebrow as the Roman secure's the blue silky thing around Crixus's cock and even looping around his balls slightly. Crixus tilts his head. Spartacus pulls off rolling and shifting so he was sitting next to Crixus instead of on his face. 

"Varro...what does that do?" Duro notice a look of relief on Crixus's face. The Gaul didn't know what it was either. He blinks looking at his brother for answers. Agron's brow was furrowed in concentration. He didn't know. Sighing is slight frustration Duro turns back to the others. 

"Keeps him from finishing." Varro says shifting the leather around his waist. 

"It what?" Crixus sputters. Varro doesn't explain further before he was pulling the Gaul up and around. It took a moment but Varro manuvers so he was sitting on the bed fully with the wall supporting his back with Crixus in his lap facing away from him ankles hanging off the edge. Spartacus makes a noise and Varro chuckles. 

"What's on his cock?" Duro whispers not able to take his eyes off. Agron shakes his head. It looked like an ivory covering. Crixus looks behind him with a frown, down at it.

"And that is what?" He asks. Varro laughs. 

"Technically it is called a strap on?" Spartacus tentatively crawls on the bed, the wood creaks with their weight. 

"I thought that was for women?" Spartacus questions. Agron and Duro share befuddled looks while Crixus blinks. 

"Normally. It took a bit to find it." Varro thrusts into Crixus without warning. Spartacus, startled, moves to cover Crixus's mouth with his own. It muffled the scream but not enough the Duro didn't shudder his orgasm hitting him suddenly. Agron curses releasing his cock to help Duro lean heavily on the opposite wall. 

"Keep watch." He mutters lowering his subligaria to ease his erection out. Duro nods lamely, wiping his soiled hand on the wall. Agron positions himself better at the crack in the door pumping his cock in time with Varro's quick thrusts. 

Spartacus climbs on to the former Champion panting against his lips. Varro wraps both arms around Crixus's chest helping steady him while Spartacus aligns the Gaul's cock with his entrance. Varro slows enough to let Spartacus sink down, impaling himself at the angle he was dying for. Crixus catches his hips and slams the Thracian down desperately. The two cry out when Varro resumes his pace. Every thrust of the Roman's hips forcing Crixus to mimic the action with his own. Spartacus's fingers rake through Crixus's hair gripping as tightly as he could without doing damage. 

Agron keens watching the way Spartacus's ass parted for the Gaul's thick cock. The blue silk an enticing addition. Varro groans before patting Crixus's hip. The other two attempt to voice their complaints but Varro pushes them off. 

"Spartacus is going to spill into your mouth, or not at all." Varro states. Crixus makes a face.

"So much for gratitude." He grumbles letting Varro shift them so he was facing the wall. The door to his left. Agron silently prays a thank you to any and all gods for Varro's existence. Varro laughs while Spartacus was splayed almost entirely off the bed with Varro stands behind Crixus. Agron likes the way the ivory curves, his hips jump at the thought of how it would feel. 

"Ah, well it made sense to add in your punishment." He admits making Agron pause. Spartacus was pulling insistently at Crixus's hair not allowing the Gaul to do so. 

"Punish-mhr" he scowls up at the leaner man mouth suddenly filled with cock. 

"What am I punishing you for?" Varro asks using both hands to slap the globes of his ass, rolling and pulling at them almost distractedly. Agron lets out a shaky sigh, noticing the way Spartacus leaned back looking blissful. "Well, let's just say: I don't like being ignored." Varro's voice held an actual ring of hurt in it. Crixus moans around his full mouth when Varro slaps his ass. The echo made Duro lift his head. 

"Oh fuck, he's spanking him." Agron states the obvious, unnecessarily for his brother. 

Crixus gasps, rocking forward as Varro's hand comes down again and again. Agron grits his teeth to stay quiet. Heat was pooling and it was all he could do to not speed up his hand and be done with it. He wished to see how this ended.

"Fuck the gods." Spartacus pants thrusting into Crixus's mouth with earnest. Varro hits harder watching the way the ass rippled from the force. He was thankful Lucretia was busy today and not going to ask for the Gaul. Otherwise she might have questions as to why his cheeks were covered in red handprints. 

"Are you close,  _Bringer of Rain_?" Varro sounded breathless, still Agron wondered about the mocking tone but Spartacus digs his nails into the back of Crixus' skull practically sobbing. "Come for me then." Spartacus's whole body spasms then, both Crixus and Varro stretching to cover his mouth from his scream. Varro yelps when Spartacus bites him. Crixus makes an amused sound.  

Spartacus collapses against the bed shaking from head to toe. Agron curses having reached the edge himself. He wasn't sure if Varro and Crixus would do it for him alone. Crixus pulls himself up a little his Adam's apple working as he swallows. Agron stares at him. Lazer focused on his neck. Finding a man who doesn't spit? Fuck the  _gods_ he was close. Varro moans watching the two of them, bending down pressing light kisses on the curve of Crixus' buttocks his thrusts soft and steady. 

"I will not last much longer." Varro murmurs against the muscled cheek. Crixus starts pushing backwards 

"Thankfully." Varro chuckles at Crixus' retort reclining letting the ivory cock remain  **just** inside. Crixus' ass bounces as he attempts to have Varro's strap filling him. 

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Crixus groans pulling away before rolling over and yanking Varro down on top of him. 

"You enjoy yourself overly much. Fuck me with that contraption like you mean it." Agron shivers when Crixus places a hard kiss to the blond. "And take this fucking thing off me." He demands. Agron hears Duro whimper but he ignores it. Varro smiles into another kiss before he shrugs and pulls the silk off with a flourish. Crixus wraps his legs around Varro's hips. Agron could feel himself flush when he realizes Spartacus watching him. 

The Thracian raises a curious eyebrow, but says nothing. His eyes burn into Agron's skin slowly looking him up and down. Jaw clenching, Agron stands up straight, deciding to test the waters a little. Putting himself on display as he works himself. Spartacus smirks licking his lips. Agron grips the top of the door, carefully. Spartacus's eyes shine with mischief leaning towards Crixus. Agron's brain stops working watching Spartacus lap at the Gaul's weeping head eyes never leaving Agron's. 

Crixus twists upwards at the contact. Varro curses looking between the three of them. Spartacus closes his mouth over the crown, hollowing out his cheeks. Agron curses under his breath. His hips stuttered in his hand, and he has to turn towards the hall to keep from spilling anything into Crixus's cell. Spartacus hums in approval and looked rather smug as he pulls off. Crixus makes a distressed noise but Varro shifts his hips. Spartacus covers his mouth as he screams.

Varro's hips stuttered to a fault accompanied by a low moan. Spartacus leans back smiling at the slow relax from the other two. Varro sighs with a smile. Agron's eyes widen and he turns to start dragging Duro down the hall fixing his clothes. Duro fusses but Agron covers his mouth. 

"Silence. Crixus almost saw us." Duro flushes knowing that if the Gaul caught them then they would be killed. Brand be damned. 

Varro chuckles glancing at the now empty doorway. He shivers a little pulling out of Crixus. Spartacus and Crixus look at each other and suddenly the three of them were a pile of laughing bodies. Crixus reaches over wrapping an arm around Spartacus's waist pulling him close. Varro tosses the strap on off to the side, wincing with sensitivity as he takes it off.

"This doesn't change the fact that you're my rival." Crixus informs all but petting Spartacus's hair. Varro smirks getting a wet cloth and cleaning them. The Champion hums content snuggling close. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Varro nods kissing both of their heads. 

"Come. He and I still need a bath, and you need to find food. We missed you at dinner." Crixus raises an eyebrow.

"From dominant ass to mother hen." Spartacus buries his face in Crixus' neck over come with a fit of giggles. 

"We'd best do as he says. You've seen what he does when he isn't happy." Varro finishes dressing and places his hands on hips. 

"Wait till you see what I do when you keep me waiting." Crixus and Spartacus laugh but do as they're told. 

"Until next time then, you simple fucks." Crixus shakes his head wondering how on Earth his life could get any stranger.

Varro and Spartacus make it down the hall grinning from ear to ear. 

"When do you plan on telling him about the Rhine brother's?" The Champion asks coming into view of the baths. Varro laughs loudly and leans in. 

"After I'm dead." The two of them laugh causing everyone else to look at them in speculation. 


	27. Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barca and Pietros praise Crixus on his technique. They ask about how he learned to do that so well but Crixus only gives them a short version. His mind is else wear and wants advice from the two people he trusts most in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for being so patient. That last chapter was 95% done on my phone. Y'all's ideas and critics and comments and support have really helped this story evolve and get added to and I can't thank you enough. I love getting chapter summaries, plot bunnies, complaints and just general comments. This chapter is leading up to Crixus' past but there's going to be something in between the two. Thank you guys again and of course comment, kudos and just all and all enjoy.

"Oh fuck the gods Crixus!" Bara gasps reaching behind him to grab the Gaul's hair. Pietros whines having lost Barca's mouth from his cock. Crixus' grip tightens on Barca's thighs becoming more insistent on his task. Barca bucks his hips thrusting into the air for any kind of friction. Pietros strokes himself now more amazed instead of left out. 

"I've never seen him so strung out." The slave whispers watching his lover in awe. Crixus hums causing Barca to yank at his hair. He was ignored. Instead Crixus reaches beside him and after a moment of searching hands Pietros their marble toy. Grinning at their silent scheme the boy scrambles off the crates of birds and manuvers out of the Beast's reach. Barca hardly notices this fact. 

"Crixus." He warns. His attempt to sound threatening thwarted by the inflation of his voice. When Pietros releases a muffled moan Barca's eyes fly open. 

Pietros was on the far side of the bed, propped up on a stool with that damned marble halfway in his mouth. Barca's cock throbs. His eyes were glued to the way Pietros gags himself around the white shaft. Drool glistening off the sides he could see. Crixus does a strange technique with his tongue that has him pitching forward with a shout. Pietros pulls the dildo out with a slurp.

"Is something wrong my mighty Beast?" He teases liking the way Barca reaches out for him. 

"Pie-ah-tros." He pants looking down at Crixus's hands holding him in place. "Get  _over_ here." He growls. An imitation of an instruction from earlier that same day. Pietros grins wickedly before shaking his head no. Curls flouncing about his face. Barca groans, dying to run his hands through them. His grip tightens on Crixus' roots trying hard to ignore the jolts of lightening the man was sending through him. 

"Not yet." Pietros coos spreading his legs. Barca's mouth waters when Pietros licks his fingers. A line of spit trailing from his tongue to the tips. 

"Crixus." Barca snaps unable to tear his gaze from the trail Peitros was making. Crixus ignores him keeping himself busy. Barca jerks his hips again when Pietros slips two fingers inside himself with seemingly no resistance. 

Oh but he knows. Barca knows  _just_ how unbelievably  **tight** his young lover is. How hot and wet he felt. Like his hole was _made_ for his cock. Barca growls when Pietros makes a soft noise, thrusting his digits. He could tell Pietros was scissoring them, spreading them but denying himself the pleasure he seeks. Barca releases the back of Crixus' head bracing himself on the bed. 

"Fuuck." Pietros sighs switching to the marble. Barca groans gripping the edge of the bed. To his surprise his legs were actually shaking a little. Crixus slaps his hand away when he tries to stroke himself. 

"Fucking Gaul." He curses moving to reach for Pietros again. In response Pietros starts pumping the marble at a steady pace. One which Barca knows isn't as fast as the slave wants it. Barca growls bent over as much as he could. His cock pressed against his stomach and bed, liquid smearing against his skin. "Pietros. Let me help you." Barca tries coaxing. Carrot versus stick. 

Pietros smiles arching into his downward thrust. Barca groans watching the dainty wrist twist and turn pulling and pushing. Crixus flicks his tongue gaining Barca's attention again. Barca moans his head falling onto the bed with a thunk. 

"Careful Crixus." Pietros cautions breathing heavily. Crixus makes a noise showing he was listening. "Or do you wish to prove boast?" Barca cries out at something Crixus was doing with his mouth. Pietros raises an eyebrow. "Fair enough." He says with a laugh.

"Wh-oh gods-  _what boast_?" Barca snaps scowling up at the slave. Pietros chuckles beaming down at him. 

"I wished to surprise you and be in Crixus' position tonight." Barca's eyes widen at that. "So I asked him if he ever, to gain some advice." Barca makes a strained noise, wishing to listen to the explanation instead of the heat building in his loins. "And he told me he could finish you without you being touched." Barca grits his teeth wishing he could disagree. 

"I should have suspected you two cunts we're up to something." Crixus smacks a cheek the resulting clap echoed slightly. Pietros licks his lips slowing his movements. 

"Yes you should have. And now I wish to watch it happen." Barca moans, praying to the gods for forgiveness. Whatever he did to anger Pietros and deserve this punishment. Crixus starts doing things with his mouth that had Barca seeing stars. The Beast groans his hips stuttered against his will. Pietros bites his lip using his foot to push on Barca's shoulder. Lifting his torso  _just_ enough so he could see the twitching cock. 

"You're gonna pay for this." Barca says through clenched teeth. Pietros laughs, a throaty sound that enflames the gladiator. 

"I'm counting on it." The wood makes a cracking sound under his hands as Barca cries out. His orgasm rocking his body, shooting white spurts across the sheets. Pietros whimpers far from his own completion. Crixus moves back with an exaggerated gasp. Barca flips him off falling onto the bed avoiding the wet spot. Crixus smirks down at him grabbing the towel they had set aside for this and cleaning up. 

"Worry not, delicate one, you and I shall find completion together." He states casually. Barca looks up enough to glare. 

"Give me a moments pause and I can find my lover his completion without assistance." Crixus and Pietros laugh happily. 

"We know you can my love." Pietros soothes, breath hitching as he removes the marble. "But we are much too impatient." Crixus nods moving to stand close enough for Pietros to slide down and wrap his legs around the Gaul's waist. 

"Besides," Crixus slips a hand between them adjusting his cock to press against Pietros's awaiting entrance, "we know you like to watch." Pietros runs his hands through Crixus's hair his whole body bowing as Crixus thrusts into him. Barca props himself up on his elbows. Again he couldn't find a good enough argument. 

For a moment the only sound in the shared cell was slapping skin, moaning followed by grunts and whimpers. Crixus jumps, an inch off the ground getting a shout from Pietros when Barca slaps him across the ass. His thrusts turn shallow, teasing Pietros while Barca slides off the bed falling to his knees behind his lovers. Pietros curls around Crixus peering over his shoulder to gaze down at the Beast of Carthage. Barca gives him a soft smile, before using both hands to grab and knead at the globes before him. Crixus's hips jerk roughly. Pietros buries his face into the crook of his neck letting his feet fall onto Barca's shoulders. Barca chuckles. He's always liked how Pietros tries to stay in contact with him while having Crixus. 

"Please." The slave whimpers. The way the Champion held his ass, keeping him from taking control. "This is not enough, please." Barca and Crixus grin, prepared for the change in attitude. 

"He's almost there little man." Barca says trailing kisses across the top of Crixus's ass, fondling the underside. Crixus hums in thought standing still, he was patient enough to lift Pietros and slowly sink him back down onto his cock. Pietros makes an impatient noise. 

"Almost." Crixus murmurs flexing when Barca licks up his crack. Pietros's head snaps back glaring at the two of them. The gladiators could practically  _hear_ the switch. 

"Is this  **all** the Undefeated Gaul has to offer? I had thought with the way you fought your way to the top that you were able to fuck better than this? I have seen how hard you ride a marble cock! Is that the issue here Champion? Do I need to paint myself white lay on the bed and have you atop my cock? I might actually cum that way!" Barca laughs loudly running his hands up and down Pietros's calves.

"There it is." Crixus sighs. Barca hoists himself back onto the bed watching with growing interest. 

Crixus slams Pietros against the wall for added support, ramming into the willing slave as if his life depended on it. Barca's cock twitches at the sight, Pietros screaming louder than he should. Luckily nobody thinks anything of the slave's noises this late at night. All peacefully unaware of the Champion's assistance. Crixus curses mouthing at the boy's neck. Barca clears his throat. They discovered long ago that Barca doesn't like anyone else's marks on his lover. Pietros smiles at the growl from the Gaul. But he continues on, not sucking or biting a bruise into the tender,  _eager_ flesh. Shaking his head in amusement Barca quickly, but thoroughly cleans off the dildo setting it back into its oil basin. He keeps it there as he shoves and pulls till the pair are aligned with a series of crates. Crixus glances at the Beast of Carthage but stays silent. Barca yanks Pietros down his back thudding on the top of one. Everyone ignores the squawk of annoyance from the pigeon inside. Crixus frowns when Barca taps his hip. A code of exit. Yet even if he disagrees he does. Pietros attempts to sit up and voice his displeasure, but Barca shoves him back down. Instead he grips both of their leaking cocks into one fist. A combined groan hides his chuckle. 

"I told you, there will be punishment." Barca places a feather light kiss to Pietros lips before taking the marble in hand. Pietros spreads his legs hopefully but Barca shakes his head. Crixus bites back a shout when the toy was suddenly shoved halfway inside of him. Pietros whimpers while Crixus pushes backwards aching for more. A laugh was the answer he receives. "Not just the delicate one." Crixus looks at him insulted. "That's right. You too little man." Crixus and Pietros start defending themselves at the same time, voices overlapping each other.

"-you enjoyed it!" "-not even  _my_ idea-" "-wanted something new-" "-know how demanding he gets-" "-insistent!" Barca laughs, giving their cocks a squeeze to silence them.

"Whatever your intentions, purpose, my enjoyment, or whomever's insistence," Barca starts pumping, both the marble and their cocks and he leans in swirling his tongue around their heads, "the two of you conspired against me." Pietros curses his head falling back, hands in his own hair. Of  **course** this was Barca's jealousy. "And that, can  _not_ be ignored." Crixus takes his turn to whimper, torn between thrusting into the fist around him, or forcing the marble just the slightest bit further in. With every push of it, the stone head just barely brushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves of his. Crixus swears he was going mad from the torment. 

"Please." Crixus gasps out when Pietros bucks his hips. Their cocks out of sync with each other as they thrust almost mindlessly. Barca moves and licks the shell of the Gaul's ear.

"Please what?" Barca breathes against his skin. Pietros tosses his head from side to side.

"More,  _please_ Barca I cannot  **stand** it any longer!" The slave sobs reaching out to his lover. Barca beams bending down and giving him a passionate kiss. 

"Only for you my heart." He whispers against his lips. Pietros sighs in relief. Crixus shudders a broken sob escaping him while Barca twists the marble fully inside him. With one arm he was lifted, carried over to the bed crooking his finger at the Gaul. Crixus makes a choked noise not sure what to do. Barca had  _left_ the cock in his ass. How was he supposed to- "walk." The Beast instructs looking smug. Swallowing hard, he takes a shaky step forward. A moan slips through and he has to stop. Pietros looks up at him while situating himself over Barca's re-hardened cock. 

"Barca, how is he-" 

"Hush, delicate one." Barca snips with a smirk. Pietros huffs looking between the gladiators. 

Two. Minutes. Six steps, took the Gaul, two minutes. Barca, stroking Pietros's cock the entire time, keeping him directly on the edge. Crixus all but collapses next to them, panting heavily. Pietros wiggles trying to impale himself on Barca.  

 "Fuck." Slight wheeze, "You." Crixus manages his hands clenched into fists. Barca grins reaching over.

"You wish." Crixus snorts. Letting the taller man pull him up so he was kneeling in front of Pietros. The slave glares behind him at Barca and reaches up to plant a hot heavy kiss on Crixus. The Gaul moans spreading his legs to support himself as he thrusts down. The balls of their toy acting as a base. Barca muses allowing their small bit of pleasure before an arm snakes out gathering Crixus in it and pulling him flush against Pietros. 

"Fuck!" "Shit!" They gasp into each other's mouth. Barca smacks the closest ass cheek of the Champion's his other hand squeezing between them and once more fisting their cocks together. Crixus tilts his head back eyes falling closed eager for release. Pietros takes advantage of Barca having no way to stop him and slams himself down onto the awaiting length. 

"Careful now Pietros." Barca speaks into his ear. Crixus moans softly bouncing a little. "If you finish before Crixus then he won't." Crixus' eyes fly open.

"The fuck I won't." He snarls, riding the marble in earnest. Barca grins trailing soft bites down Pietros' neck. Pietros tilts his head giving his lover more access.

"And if the  _Gaul_ finishes before you," Pietros nervously looks at Crixus, " **you** will not." Crixus growls throwing one hand out to support himself against the wall, the other clapping against Pietros's ass cheek doing his damnedest to find a matching rhythm. Barca hums content to lazily stroke them together as they work themselves and each other into a frenzy. 

It was a little more than sloppy. Oil slicking them, every so often a squelching sound will fill the air, nobody quite sure whether from Barca's cock ramming into Pietros or Crixus' ass slapping onto the marble. Crixus ruts against Pietros's erection into Barca's hand muttering obscenities, fueled by the swift demands of Pietros. Both Crixus and Pietros reach out for each other, snatching the others hair. Crixus pulls him in for a kiss, keening at the strain on his short roots. Pietros whimpers his cock pulsing against the Gaul's. Barca smiles at the mewling sounds.

"He's close." The sing song nothing less than mockery. Crixus shifts his hips and little his thrusts becoming erratic. "So are you." Barca praises feeling his own balls tightening. It had only happened once before, the three of them coming at the same time. He was eager to have it happen again. 

But it seems, it wasn't for today. Pietros shouts loudly thrusting up as his chest is streaked in white. Barca sighs shaking his head, going to move his hand when Crixus' snatches his wrist. Barca raises an eyebrow noticing the Gaul's eyes shut tight, thrusts jerking and stuttering as he spills over Barca's fingers with a groan of relief. Shrugging, Barca releases Crixus and places both hands on Pietros waist. Without saying anything he starts a brutal pace, tearing a scream from the boy. Oh how he enjoys the way Crixus watches in such open abandon. It didn't take too much longer until Barca thrusts hard twice more, grunting as he stops, filling Pietros with his seed. Crixus helps ease Pietros off and sets him to the side before slowly pulling himself off the marble, shivering at the wet sound it made. Shakily he goes to stand but Barca pulls him back down. 

"I'm fine." He protests. Barca smiles kissing his forehead. 

"I know little man, I know. But you've been distracted these past few days. Tell me what vexes your tiny mind while I tend to us." Pietros creeps his arms out wrapping one around Crixus's waist holding him close. Crixus fumes for a moment debating on if he should say why or just fight. Sighing he lays down. 

"You know of Lucretia's body slave?" Pietros sits up like a dog looking for food. Barca smiles, wringing out a wet cloth.

"Naevia." Crixus sighs deeply. 

"Don't tell me you've set sights towards her." Pietros cautions. Crixus makes a face.

"I am no fool. Lucretia would never part with my cock." Pietros and Barca share a look. Arrogant man. Stupid man. They both sigh.

"True. So why does mind stray from that information?" Crixus shifts a little.

"To be honest I am unsure. Vexed as you said. She is beautiful. That much is certain." Barca grimaces while Pietros smiles. "Kind, and gentle. Passionate-"

"Have you ever  _spoken_ to her?" Pietros asks in disbelief. He and Naevia gossip  **all** the time. If she's been talking to Crixus and not telling him, then he was insulted. Crixus blinks at the ceiling.

"No. I have not. Perhaps I shall tomorrow." Barca rolls his eyes, cleaning them off. 

"Perhaps you should focus on the recruits. The test is coming up within the week. How about after that hmm?" He suggests hoping to buy time to knock some sense into the man. Crixus nods. Then he sits up suddenly.

"Do you think she would mind?" Pietros glances at Barca.

"Mind what Crixus?" 

"My bedding the two of you." He asks as if that was obvious. Barca's eyes widen. Pietros's mouth falls open. There was a few moments filled with 'uuh's' and 'aaahhh's' and one or two 'um's'. "What? It is a reasonable question. If I start to pursue her and she does not wish me to sleep with other people while doing so-"

"Domina." Pietros whispers. 

"Yes, besides Lucretia," Crixus amends, "then what shall I do?" Barca and Pietros look at each other and have some sort of silent conversation by just staring hard for a minute.

"To be honest, I think you should follow your heart in all things." Pietros admits taking the cloth from Barca and cleaning his cock with a wince from the sensitivity. 

"And in my opinion I think you should talk to her about it first." Crixus nods slowly looking at the ground. Barca and Pietros continue to exchange glances, having a silent debate with the other while Crixus contemplates things. 

"Hmm-mmh." They turn to him. "If that is the case...would you overly mind if the three of us..." His voice trails off. Barca notices the wetness of his eyes, and heard the tightening of his throat. Pietros beams taking one of Crixus's large hands into both of his small ones.

"Of course we don't mind. Besides with the new recruits the three of us would be far too busy anyways." Barca chuckles darkly,

"Especially that Thracian shit you couldn't take your eyes off of." He teases. Crixus snorts while Pietros grins.

"What  _Spartacus_? That rabbit will be dead before the Vulcanalia." Pietros hums. "What?" 

"Name the other recruits." Barca challenges while Crixus sits up and starts dressing. Crixus frowns. 

"What do the other recruits  _look_ like?" Pietros adds with a giggle. Crixus looks between them. Before laughing. 

"Fair enough the rabbit caught my eye. But only because he survived his execution." Pietros leans back looking smug.

"What was it he said when first laid eyes?" Barca suppresses a laugh.

"I believe it was 'Well lick my hole.' wasn't it?" Crixus flushes bright red. 

"You are both cunts." He says without malice before leaving for his own cell. Barca and Pietros laugh shifting themselves around until they were cuddling in bed.

"He's going to get himself killed if he goes after Naevia." Pietros sighs. Barca nods petting his hair. 

"And heartbroken if he tries the Thracian." Barca states. Pietros slowly breaks out into a slow smile. 

"Maybe  _we_ should give Spartacus a try." Barca flicks his ear.

"My cock is enough to keep you satisfied." Pietros laughs burying his face into Barca's neck.

"Indeed."


	28. Predatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise POV of a past chapter. There will be more of this person's POV later on. And another surprise (not exactly one?) pairing! And it's an extension of the scene!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your help with the last chapter! It was such a difficult debate for me! The chapter would have been really different the other way around! I'm not sure if I'm going to do a one-shot of that as a stand alone fic. Probably should since I still have 499 different Spartacus fics to write before 2020. Anyways, your comments, kudos, plot bunnies and votes are awesome! Your support is so inspiring thank you all again. I hope you enjoy!

"Get out of my way you Syrian shit." Barca snaps shoving Ashur to the side as he leaves the medicus. Ashur huffs tossing his hands into the air. Gannicus, Oenomaus come back with Batiatus practically carrying a stabbed Barca and he isn't allowed to help?! He helped kill Tullius fucking men and  _this_ was his reward. Contempt. Shaking his head Ashur goes to see if there was any left over food. Rounding the corner he sees a guard leading Crixus away. Ashur taps his fingers against a table. It was probably nothing. Needed his help with stone hauling. Or, perhaps that particular guard liked taking advantage of the gladiators. His heart thuds against his ribs at the thought of Crixus bent over, his pretty little hole  **begging** for Ashur's cock. Any cock. Or better yet, Crixus, bending  _Ashur_ over a table until the Syrian was begging for cock in ass. 

Without blinking Ashur follows the two of them. 

 

 

Talk about disappointing. It was just some young house slave shaving and cutting the Gaul's hair. Ashur frowns. His friend looks wonderful with his long hair and all that scruff would feel like absolute _bliss_ on his skin. Ashur makes a face and dodges as the girl scurries off. He noticed how red her face was. Virgin. Ashur shakes his head and goes to his cell. It had been a  _long_ and rather disappointing day. Gannicus was still here, which means it would be harder to convince Barca that Ashur was ready to make amends and put differences aside. Be friends. Especially now that Auctus was gone. And the same for Crixus. The Gaul has become less and less friendly in the past week. And Ashur just  **knows** it's because Crixus has a crush on the blond Gladiator. Ashur snorts digging out an herb from his stuff and headed to the baths. Sure Gannicus was nice to look at and all the whores and house slaves that he's fucked absolutely praise his ability, but Ashur just couldn't get it up for the Celt. A sigh draws his attention as Ashur was walking through the doorway. He was surprised to see someone there. He didn't recognize them but they were well built from what he could see. 

The man shakes his head and stands up. 

"Whoa, uh apologies." Crixus looks up at Ashur who was stunned in the doorway. He had no idea that under all that scruff and hair was...wow "I, er, I almost did not recognize you brother. The new look," Ashur motions to Crixus's face but rubbing his own smiling brightly, "it suits you." Ashur could already feel his cock stirring. The Gaul's shoulders slump a little. Strange reaction to a compliment. Ashur frowns stepping forward. "I meant no offense." Crixus shakes his head.

"None was given. It's simply...strange and new." He admits with a shrug looking down at the water. Ashur pats his shoulder. Lord it was hard as stone. Ashur stops a moan by talking.

"I am sure in time you will become accustomed to it." Crixus nods wading to the edge to step out. But Ashur slides into his way. "Forgive me, but something else seems to be troubling you friend." Anything to keep the man's company just a moment longer. Crixus grimaces. Ashur wasn't entirely sure why Crixus has suddenly stopped being friendly. Maybe some resentment that Ashur received the mark first? Or just the way he achieved it. He finds it unfair to be treated so poorly. He was only doing what Dominus requested of him, and was rewarded for doing so! But he stays silent hoping that maybe if he keeps trying to be friends with the Gaul that neither of them have to feel so alone. 

"A secret." He finally mutters, after a moment of debate. Ashur nods not a single one of the other gladiators have asked what Ashur and Dagon did to get their brand. He doesn't think he wants to know what they think he did for it,

"The secrets in this house are many and heavy. I understand. The consequences of shouldering them weigh on you as they do others." Crixus blinks looking up at Ashur. Ashur wonders if Crixus was made to murder anyone yet. Or just sleep with someone? Could be why Gannicus has been acting weird. Ashur tries his best not to picture Crixus getting pounded in front of a bunch of Romans by  _Gannicus_. Ugh.

"Indeed they do. It is...difficult to find solace." Crixus states looking worried. Ashur tilts his head a little with a nod maybe Crixus just needed a little assistance. 

"There, ah," Ashur looking Crixus up and down quickly before glancing behind towards the doorway, "There is something I can do to help." Crixus leans backwards a little. 

"I have no interest in you Syrian," Ashur rolls his eyes.

"No," He laughs, "Crixus, no." He says more firmly no need to have the Gaul run away before anything began. "I have this." He says pulling out his personal herb from the towel he was carrying. 

"The fuck is that?" Crixus asks slightly disturbed. 

"It helps to calm and relax you. I myself use it when I find myself troubled and, ah unencumbered." Ashur explains with a waggle of his eyebrows that he hopes Crixus understands. 

"Relax huh?" He questions picking up the grass like substance to study it. Oh good he does.

"I am more than willing to share it with you my friend." Ashur offers shedding his towel and stepping into the bath. Crixus shrugs handing it back.

"How does it work?" Ashur's grin was predatory as he sank low into the water. Thank the gods for this opportunity.

"Trust me, and everything will be fine."

 

 

 

Ashur sighs to himself feeling his mind, stress and worries float away. He blesses the day he discovered this wonderful drug. Cheaper than opium and works just as well. True he wasn't getting exactly what he was hoping for at the moment but sitting next to a wet Crixus was the start of a few of his fantasies. His cock twitches as if a reminder. Licking his lips he wraps his hands around himself. Pumping and fisting himself slowly and quietly so as not to alert Crixus. His head falls backwards imagining all the things the two of them could do here. Oh wait, Crixus spoke. 

"Hmm? A title?" Ashur asks blinking at him, his voice breathy trying to focus. Crixus nods firmly, a loopy grin plastored on his face. Ashur admits that he may have taken too much of the drug. He doesn't exactly recall what Crixus said or his own reply. Something about frightening his opponents. He does recall reaching and stroking the side of Crixus' newly shaven face.

"Your skin is so soft." He states looking surprised. The Gaul shrugs turning so Ashur could reach better. The rest was a blur of pure lust and bliss. It was hot, it was wet and Ashur couldn't get enough. 

He was still in the clouds when Crixus was removing himself from the water. Ashur smiles realizing he himself couldn't stand right that moment.

"Gratitude. The name is good, and...I feel more centered." Crixus says nervously. Ashur laughs lightly,

"Centered? Ah, well if any time you need to be re-balanced;" Ashur opens his arms, palms up, with a smirk, "Ashur will provide service." Crixus smiles quickly before leaving the bath grabbing his towel as he does. 

"Ashur?" He gains the Syrian's attention, the smaller man looks at him with a smile, "Speak of this and see cock parted from body." He states. Ashur shrugs still grinning.

"Of course." Crixus nods and all but runs out. Ashur sighs sinking down eyes falling shut.

"Ever the whore." Ashur's eyes fly open his heart stopping at the sound of his native tongue. 

Dagan leans against the doorway, using a knife to clean out from under his finger nails. Pointless and useless since they were in a bath! Ashur swallows hard glancing around. The torches were slightly lower meaning he had fallen asleep. 

"Dagan! Uh, nice to see you my friend." He says noticing the larger man using his frame to block the exit. The one and  _only_ exit. Ashur suddenly feels overly exposed being the only one between the two of them to be naked. 

"Friend? Oh I think not." 

The two Syrians look over at Ashur's discarded towel at the same time, glancing between it and each other. Ashur dives for it first but Dagan was too fast. Instead of snatching the cloth out of his reach Dagan tackles Ashur the two of them splashing into the water. Ashur gasps swallowing water, feeling it fill his nose. His arms flail trying to pull himself out but Dagan had his arms wrapped around his waist. He was at the larger man's mercy. Just as Ashur's lungs started to burn they surfaced. 

 "Da-gah- Dagan! Wa-wait a minute now! F-friend we can work this out!" Dagan laughs shoving him against the side of the tub. Ashur grits his teeth ignoring the edge digging into his skin. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

"Oh we are." Dagan snarls pushing on the top of Ashur's head to keep him down. Ashur grunts in pain feeling some blood forming under his eye. When Dagan kicked his knees apart he tries to struggle. The wet stone made it difficult for his fingers to grip anything. His eyes widen when he feels pressure against his entrance. 

"W-wait a second now-" Ashur cuts himself off with a shout as Dagan forces himself inside the smaller Syrian. Tears sprung to his eyes and he could feel a familiar sense of helplessness sinking into his stomach. Dagan snarls leaning down, his breath hot in Ashur's ear,

"Who had you?" Ashur swallows hard shaking from head to toe.

"I-I do not know what you mean." He bites his lip. This had the potential to end very badly. Dagan curses at him in their native tongue.

"Do not think me fool." Ashur rolls his eyes. True Dagan's Latin has gotten better but he still messed some things up. He chuckles nervously.

"Never would I think you a fool friend. We are past things like this are we no-ah-t?" He asks while Dagan starts ramming Ashur's ass with as much force as he could muster. Ashur scream's the sound echoing off the walls. 

"Giving I to Roman shit. Laughing behind." 

"N-no -ah!" Ashur wiggles trying to get away, he could feel Dagan's cock pulsing. A sure sign his release was fast approaching. 

"Do no lie! Now tell, who  _had_ you?" Dagan snarls a hand moving to Ashur's hip, he could feel it bruising already. He was sure his knees were scrapped, his ribs were being pressed against the tub making him worried it would break. "Roman?" Ashur whimpers Dagan's weight crushing him. "No? Fellow Gladiator." Ashur clenches his fists. Dagan pulls back suddenly the water sloshing around.

"No! Please, it was not! I-it was a guard! Desperate and lonely he was!" Dagan barks out a laugh, getting out. 

"Liar. Was it little Gaul?" Ashur feels himself pale. "Crixus." Dagan sneers. Ashur shakes his head with a whispered;

"No." Dagan back hands him sending him splashing back into the bath. 

"Tomorrow. After games?" Dagan says when Ashur surfaces sputtering and coughing, "Crixus. Dead." Ashur stares at him in horror fear twisting his stomach. 

"No." He says stumbling out, Dagan scoffs turning to leave, "NO!" Ashur shouts at the top of his lungs. Dagan pauses, slowly turning to him. "I-I won't let you." Dagan tilts his head and crosses his arms.

"You?" He laughs, " _You_ stop Dagan?" Ashur swallows again but nods firmly. Dagan's laugh makes Ashur flinch. "You think can kill me?" Ashur straightens his shoulders a tear falling, 

"I'll do what I must. To save him." Dagan nods with a smirk. 

"Good luck." Ashur collapses sitting on a nearby bench as Dagan leaves laughing loudly. 


	29. Fear No Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaia refuses to be out under Titus's thumb and rebels in anyway she can before she leaves this dreaded city for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so again thank you guys for all your help and advice. I'm super excited to have this chapter out and I've even had it planned for a bit. Kind of a for shadow for chapter 21but anyways your comments, chapter reviews, kudos and plot bunnies are super appreciated and welcomed. I hope you enjoy.

Gaia was fuming as she stormed down the steps. That old fart Titus  _really_ thinks so little of her, just because she enjoys the finer pleasures life! Backwards old goat. She'll show him. With a huff she motions for the guard to open the gate to the ludus. He was hesitant but did as instructed. If she was being forced from this house, then by the  _gods_ she was going to do it with a bang, and a final fuck you to the elder Batiatus. She sends a prayer out that Lucretia would never find out. She couldn't bear it if her dear friend thought her some sort of defiled whore. 

Naturally she started her search in the common area where the men ate. But there was nobody there. So she went wandering the halls. It was like a damned maze. A twist and a turn here. She wonders how the gladiators never get lost. Sure she could have made everything easier by just opening a cell door. And there were plenty to choose from. Especially the ones that weren't so private. But she was determined. After a few more minutes she felt like giving up, but just as she rounded a corner she spotted him! The newest gladiator of the House of Batiatus! The only one if this batch of slaves that Quintus chose. 

" _Gannicus_!" She calls out getting his attention. The look of absolute shock was priceless and she beams at it. He looks to his left then his right before pointing at himself. She laughs sauntering over, noting the way he glances at her figure. 

"Uh," He knows she isn't "Domina" but has  _zero_ idea how to address her. He shrugs, deciding to figure that out later, "How can I help you?" He asks with a smile. Gaia giggles leaning against a beam. 

"Do you have a moment?" Gannicus raises an eyebrow. She looks him up and down openly before reaching out to drape herself on his shoulder. "I just need to know if I can borrow you for a little bit. In private." The Celt looks over his shoulder bringing Gaia's attention to the Doctore. He was talking to Oenomaus but scowling at the blond gladiator. He gives a little wave before turning back to Gaia.

"Absolutely." He answers nodding with a big grin. Gaia laughs looping her arm through his and leading him off. She gets him through the gate and under a curtain of linen before she lets go of him, leaning back against the wall, her chest pushed outwards. Gannicus doesn't even blink. He has a fair idea where this could be going, but he wanted to take Oenomaus's advice and not think with his cock all the time. Just because he finds her attractive doesn't mean she was going to out right say she wanted him to fuck her. She was a Roman lady after all. 

"So, before I ask anything of you," He raises an eyebrow his smile fading. "And I know this is going to sound strange but feel free to say no." Gannicus straightens his shoulders his fists clenching at his sides. He looked a little mad, "But I want you to fuck me." Gannicus's face goes blank as he stares at her,

"What?" He chokes out. Gaia laughs flipping her hair back,

"Of course if you're into something else that's fine. But it is just that I am getting married to my third husband in a week." Gannicus stays closed mouth. Gaia breathes out a laugh deciding against a long winded explanation. "Then again," Gaia pushes herself off the wall wrapping an arm around his neck trailing her hand down his chest to toy at his waist line. "If you're too nervous...." Gaia lets her implication trail off. Gannicus scoffs slightly a smile at last breaking across his face. 

"You mistake me for either a virgin or a fool." With a flourish he removes his clothing letting his growing erection spring free proudly. "And I am neither of those things." He informs her, pressing her backwards so she had to sit upon the ledge, spreading her legs for him to stand between them. Gaia gasps with a happy sigh. 

"Well," She looks down at his cock with a smirk, "thank the gods for small favors." Gannicus chuckles with a soft "Oh?" before sliding his hands up the back of her thighs kneading at the soft flesh. Gaia hums letting her head fall back as he starts kissing down her neck, he wasn't clean shaven and his scruff had her moistening. Gannicus trails his tongue across the top of her breast one hand finding its way to her folds. Gaia bites her lip unable to hide her smile spreading her legs further trying to silently urge him closer. She could  _feel_ the heat coming off his cock. She didn't come down here expecting much but damn is she glad she chose him. 

Gannicus smirks fondly at the way she arches when he delves his index finger into her welcoming cunt. His friend was _not_ going to believe this. Once again the gods he doesn't believe in bless him with a gift he didn't deserve. He has to admit for the life of a gladiator he had it pretty good. Case in point; obviously she was a woman of passion. It must have been a while since her last male partner, she was tighter than he imagined a woman with two dead husbands would be. If she wasn't Roman he might have an issue with her being engaged again, but as it stood he found himself adding a second and even a third finger, curling and stretching her, liking the way she mewls and grabs at his wrist, twisting it when she wanted, forcing his pace. Gannicus has already bedded plenty of women in his young life, and he could honestly say this Roman was the most daring woman he has taken to bed yet. She was clearly eager, and it didn't take long for impatience to over take her enjoyment of his preparation.

Soon she was grabbing at his shoulders, tugging insistently at his growing hair. Gannicus growls softly when her finger nails drag across his back. Gaia shivers as he rolls his shoulders lifting her off the stone a little. The strength of the Celt surprised her, but nothing could distract from Gannicus thrusting his cock into her forgoing the risk of getting caught. Gannicus sucks in a breath, realizing she was tighter than he had expected. Gaia clings to him doing what she could to keep herself quiet. Her mouth as a result was everywhere. Sucking a bruise at his neck, pulling a strangled shout from him by torturing his nipple, covering his lips with her own. It was hot, it was dirty, it was everything Gaia ever wanted. Her eyes fly open when her heart squeezes. Well...not  _everything_. Determined she lifts her hips pushing and turning him until he was sitting and her knees were on either side of him. 

"Holy fucking gods." He whispers watching her in slight awe. Gaia laughs tilting his head up by the chin.

"You've had girls in the past, let me show you how a  _woman_ fucks." Gannicus's eyes widen as she places an open palm on the wall behind him. His grip on her thighs tightens as she starts riding his cock. Bouncing up and down with a roll of her hips. The Celt moans a hand moving to cup her breast leaning down so he could suck at the rosy tip. Gaia hisses at the contact speeding up her movements as a familiar heats starts building. The sound of skin slapping skin echos lightly around them. A hand tangles itself in his hair holding his head tightly. Panting Gaia shifts a little so she could more easily slam down onto his cock. She cries out louder than she meant to when her orgasm starts to convulse through her.

Gannicus whines a little grabbing her by the ass angling himself deeper, bucking at a wild pace. The muscles holding him were pulsing causing his cock to throb with want. Gaia had stopped her movements, momentarily placated by her release, but Gannicus wasn't done with her yet. Gaia's eyes widen when he picks her up and lies her down on the stone shelf tossing both of her legs over his shoulders using her hips as an anchor to rut against her. Gannicus watches where his cock disappears inside her at a rapid pace, the wet noise urging him on just as much as her murmuring. It didn't take long to feel her building up to a second orgasm, but his own was approaching faster. Cursing he reaches in between them urgently thumbing her clit, fast circles that have her spasming a silent scream on her lips. Gannicus nods encouragingly refusing to stop his movements. Gaia tosses her head back and forth whimpering, ankles locked behind his head, her hands clawing at his forearms. A broken sob escapes her as her whole body quakes around him. Gannicus grunts thrusting into her a few more times before his cock was twitching, hot cum filling this random Roman lover of his.

"Fuuck." He moans shakily. Gaia sighs letting her feet drop. The two look at each other and share a quiet laugh. "Did I please you?" He asks catching his breath and pulling back with a shudder. Gaia bites her lip giggling. 

"Mhh,  _absolutely_." She licks her lips slowly, "Oh, if only I wasn't for Rome in the morrow." Gannicus frowns looking at her. 

"Perhaps, if you ever come back for a visit..." He stops understanding the likely hood of her returning were just as slim as the chances of him being alive by this time next year. Such was the life of a gladiator. Gaia studies his face for a second before smiling brightly. 

"Should you survive we will most definitely have a repeat performance." Gannicus smiles softly. She reaches up planting a kiss on his lips before standing and straightening her hair and dress. Gannicus watches her leave and sighs. He hopes her husband was at least good in bed. That woman deserves it. Shaking his head Gannicus starts laughing to himself. What the fuck was his life? Smiling he strides off to the baths hoping to find Oenomaus and tell him this story. 

 

 


	30. My Mind, is Mine Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus has issues shaking off his latest interaction with Spartacus and Varro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Christ! It has been a minute since I updated this story! I am so sorry for your wait! Thank you for being patient! I hope the 500 fic challenge posts have helped tied you over! Even though they are the reason I haven't been working on this one. Anyways, you guys are absolutely amazing and I love y'all! Comments, kudos, plot bunnies and chapter summaries are highly welcomed and I hope you enjoy!

His skin was burning. Never before had he wanted to break his personal vow so badly. The way Spartacus dug his nails into his scalp, pulling his hair stoked a fire in him like nothing before. And every smack of Varro's palm against his bare cheeks sent a jolt down his spine. He was unbearably close. 

"Crixus, you are summoned." The Gaul's eye fly open staring at the wall opposite him. He sits up quickly, scowling dangerously at the guard. He was going to kill him. And Batiatus. Where the fuck did that asshole think he was going this fucking early in the morning anyways? Fucking cunt.

However, he does what he is told. Crixus reassures himself that while delayed he was at least going to be able to finish before the days training. Shaking his head Crixus follows the guard to the gate. He smiles when he sees Naevia. She looked sleepy. His heart melts at how cute and beautiful she was. A twitch of the cock reminds him how tight she felt wrapped around him. Shaking his head he greets her and she smiles in return. 

"Apologies for the early mo-m-morning." She yawns. Crixus beams reaching out to run a hand down her arm. Any touch was a comfort. 

"A chance to wake up to your face is a gift from the gods." Naevia blushes turning away as they start up the steps. Crixus almost winces at the movement. He was sore from the day before and it was jarring. He and Barca were once able to go on through the night and he managed to slay three different opponents in the arena the next day without any discomfort. Chuckling he shakes his head wanting to know if Spartacus was just as if not more sore as he was. 

"You flatter, but Dominus is in market making preparations for tonight." A slight amount of dread fills him.

"Tonight? Is Batiatus hosting a party?" He  _hates_ those things. It is one thing to be admired in the arena by fans, admired by fellow gladiators, and lovers, and of course his heart...but those parties remind him too much of his time as a slave in Tullius' house. Naevia yawns again shaking her head.

"No, a Roman woman, is to sleep with Spartacus." Crixus almost slips. 

"What?" The image of the Thracian's mouth around his cock swims to mind and a wave of possessiveness threatens to swallow him whole. Naevia nods turning the corner. 

"Strange I know. But Licina insisted." Crixus could feel his mouth thin.

"I see." Naevia stops walking, motioning him forward showing no indication that something was wrong. 

"Domina awaits. And so does my bed." Crixus flinches guilty and kisses her cheek quickly. Poor thing must be exhausted. 

"Rest. I shall see you when you wake." Naevia smiles dreamily and wonders off. Sighing Crixus steps into the room. 

He was surprised to see Lucretia spread wide on the chase lounge already fingering her wet cunt. In the past she's talked about it. And Naevia has confessed that Lucretia sometimes has her do it, much to the slave's embarrassment, but in all his years he's never actually  **seen** a woman pleasure herself. It was more arousing than he thought it would be. 

Crixus blinks away the image of Varro reclined on the Gaul's bed stroking himself. The memory of Spartacus desperately trying to find any sort of relief and the surge of power Crixus felt when he denied the Thracian that small joy. 

Lucretia moans gaining his attention again. If she hasn't said anything then it was one of those times where she wished to pretend. Shaking his head Crixus steps up dropping to his knees. She makes a confused noise but he ignores her. True he hasn't done this to her yet but it was something he knows she was going to enjoy. Despite the aching of his neglected cock, he was willing to do his duty first. At this point he was used to it.

The feel of her nails tugging at his hair was an echo of Spartacus's. Crixus moans as he works his tongue across her slit, toying with her clit. For balance he wraps his arms under her thighs his hands coming up to knead the soft ass cheeks. As far as women went she tasted better than most, but his taste buds were crying. He recalls all too well how addictive Spartacus tasted. Hot and sticky running down the back of his throat. Lucretia was bucking her hips holding him in place. Crixus breathes through the nose buried up to her dark curls. Her musk while not unpleasant only made him miss the hot stench of the aftermath from yesterday. 

"Enough. I need your cock inside me now!" Lucretia orders sounding more feeble than she probably meant to. Crixus sends a quick thank you to the gods as he pulls himself up. 

The two groan in relief as he slides into her easily. She was wet and welcoming, hot and ready. But the pleasure of her eager cunt was a pale shadow to the crazed state of mind Spartacus's hole gave him. Crixus growls starting to become irritated with himself. Lucretia shouts, and laughs as he starts a hard steady pace. It was ridiculous really. He's sure he has had more erotic and more exotic experiences than last night. Yet it haunted his dreams and his current mind. Even as he was buried deep in Lucretia his body ached for the touch of that damned Thracian, and his pet Roman. 

Lucretia runs her hands down his back, clawing at him, being careful enough not to leave lasting marks. Least Doctore or Batiatus ask questions. Crixus grinds his teeth to keep from whimpering. Everything was too soft. Her skin, her gasps, all of it. Crixus lifts her legs high panting with exertion. Hating himself Crixus closes his eyes. Flashes of the night before run through his mind. The feel of that ivory strap-on, how roughly Varro handled him with it. The way Spartacus sounded as he neared completion. Or the devilish trick he played with his tongue to trigger Crixus' release. Cursing Crixus slams into Lucretia only a handful more times before stilling, the two of them shivering as his seed filled her. 

Lucretia smacks at his wrists with a grimace on her face. Crixus sighs and pulls out. They stay silent as he dresses. Something not out of place in the early mornings or late nights. Lucretia smiles possessively before pulling him back. Confused he watches her lean down to his hip. 

"Fuck!" He hisses when she bites his skin. Crixus fights his instinct to grab her by the back of the head, opting to clench his fists instead. Shivering he watches her work for just a moment. When she sits up there was a nice round dark bruise staring back at him. 

"There." Crixus blinks at it before looking up at her confused. Lucretia beams. "You are mine." Crixus nods wondering if this has anything to do with the Licinia woman coming for Spartacus today. Lucretia dismisses him with a wave of her hand headed to the baths. Crixus shakes his head fixing his subligaria to hide the mark. 

 

"Naevia." He whispers shaking the girl a little. She wakes with a start looking around.

"Domina? Diona?" Crixus frowns. Naevia must have been dreaming of her friend again. 

"No love. Just me." She blinks a few times before smiling. Crixus sits back on his heels watching her stretch. 

"Domina is in the baths?" She asks rubbing an eye. Crixus nods.

"She has not sent for you yet. I suggest bringing wine as an excuse for the delay." Naevia tilts her head. 

"Delay?" Crixus crosses his legs and rocks a little not looking her in the eye. Naevia slowly nods. "Tell me of it."

 

It took fifteen minutes for him to spit it out. He wasn't sure why he was embarrassed to tell her. Perhaps he should have asked Varro and Spartacus if they were alright with her knowing. Chalking it up to that they managed to get the story out. He didn't miss the blush on her cheeks as he stuttered the truth. 

"Crixus, this...thing between you, Varro and Spartacus is new. It is alright to be focused on it for a little bit." Crixus shakes his head at her soft voice and sound logic.

"I should be focused on you and you alone. You are the only one who holds my heart." Naevia laughs kindly reaching out and pulling him into a hug. Surprised Crixus wraps an arm around her, marveling at how small she was compared to him. She holds him for a moment before pulling back. 

"Crixus. We have discussed this. You are a man and need release far more than I do. More importantly you are a  _gladiator_. The Undefeated Gaul. I do not need you finding your death just because all the blood is in your cock and not your brain." Crixus chuckles shaking his head. 

"And I have told you, that you deserve release as much as I do." Gently he runs a hand up her thigh his heart soaring at the way she bites her lip with a soft hum. 

"Naevia!" Lucretia's voice echos down the hall. Naevia scowls and Crixus curses. 

"Come on. I'll walk you down. Wine is an excellent excuse." They share a smile before walking off. 


	31. Natural Talent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tullius finds use for an injured slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ladies and gents, here comes the moment you've waited for. Searching in the dark your sweat soaked through the floor. And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore." If you don't know where that's from I'm so sorry. Anyways thank you for your patience! You guys have waited for so long for this chapter and here it is! Your comments, kudos, bunnies and summaries are welcome! I hope you enjoy!

Cold blue eyes watched the man approach. The cloth around his hips barely covered the heavy cock swaying in between his thighs. Tullius would never in a million years admit to wanting this man. He will just have to break him first. The same way he broke Varinius. He smiles keeping himself seated in the baths. His slave doesn't make eye contact keeping brown eyes focused on the ground, his shaggy dark hair covering most of his face. But Tullius could care less about any of that. This man was built like a  _god_. He wasn't overly tall, but his legs were long and every muscle was toned to perfection. 

"You summoned me Dominus?" The slave whispers, his voice was hoarse and sounded raw. 

"Yes." He drawls, "Your name is: Crixus is it not?" His slave nods eyes flickering around. "I heard you were severely injured a week ago. As your Dominus I am doing my duty to check on you." Crixus raises his head looking confused. 

"I-in the bath?" He asks sounding far younger than Tullius would have pegged him for. Perhaps because he was nervous. Tullius feels his cock stirring. 

"I thought you could use one. And I need a new helper." Crixus frowns a little. Tullius laughs softly, "My old one quit." Neither of them mention that slaves can't quit. 

"Yes, Dominus. What would you have me do?" Crixus asks shifting from foot to foot. Tullius laughs again. 

"Undress and bathe me of course." Crixus stares at him in disbelief. "Unless you would like to quit as well?' Crixus shakes his head undressing, his fingers were fumbling as his skin flushed red. He doesn't think he will ever be comfortable being naked in front of another man. 

Crixus climbs into the bath hisses at its contact. Tullius chuckles with a nod. The water was cold, but considering the summer heat and the usually dryness of Capua Crixus supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Romans were soft and weak. Pitiful things. Crixus makes his away to stand next to Tullius not exactly sure what to do now. 

"Have you ever bathed anyone besides yourself?" Tullius asks motioning for him to sit down. Crixus slowly sits shivering when the water reaches his chest. 

"No, Dominus." Tullius looks him up and down laughing a little.

"It seems you've hardly ever bathed yourself!" Crixus blushes looking down. He points to his head bringing attention to the newly forming scars.

"The injury has not made it easy. Medicus says I'm a fast healer when I'm not exerting myself." Tullius nods. A plan forming. 

"Very well. Here." He had Crixus a wet rag. "Use this to wash me and later when I am dry you can return here and wash yourself." Crixus stares at him in amazement. Carefully he nods.

"Gratitude, Dominus." 

It was a slow process. Tullius having to huff and instruct on where exactly he needed to wash. Reminds him to get in between his fingers and under his finger nails. It was far more amusing than he thought it would be to have Crixus clean his cock and balls. The way the man's eyes widen when it hardened under the touch. Tullius reassured him that was just a physical reaction. It settled him enough to continue. Crixus was silent the entire time. 

Less than an hour later Tullius was climbing out, a separate slave waiting with a warm dry towel. Crixus remains where he was not daring to move. Tullius grins darkly. He liked that Crixus was already accustomed to awaiting for orders. 

"Clean yourself and then meet me in my Chambers." Crixus bows his head and mumbles an agreement. 

 

Crixus hurries though washing himself, being careful with the stitches across his forehead and the back of it. They were starting to itch. Medicus says that means they're healing, but he doesn't like it. Shaking his head Crixus steps out of the bath. He frowns looking around. His subligaria was gone and a small towel was in its place. Sighing he wraps it around himself peering out of the bath area. A tiny little slave pops up. Crixus frowns, this child couldn't be any older than five summers. Dark of hair and skin, brown eyes looking wiser than they had a right to be with how old the boy was. He remembers being that age and a slave. The terror, hunger, and uncertainty, wishing someone would just give him an assurance that they meant no harm. He looks around before squatting down. 

"I will not hurt you." He states firmly. The kid raises an eyebrow. Shrugs and motions for Crixus to follow him. Sighing in acceptance Crixus follows. He keeps his gaze to the floor. He hates Romans sometimes, and he certainly hates Roman law. 

The two of them turn the corner, the boy holding a curtain open for him. Crixus nods his thanks stepping in. The room was large. A bed covered most of the floor with two chase lounge chairs on either side. He was a little confused to see a naked woman. The collar around her throat signaling her status as a slave. Crixus, who's never been in the same room as a naked woman, let alone seen one this close up before coughs loudly, hoping that maybe she didn't know he was there and would cover up. Instead she looks at him, and moves to one of the chase chairs opening her legs wide. Crixus's eyes widen, he was frozen in the spot and didn't know what to do. 

"Worry not," Crixus turns with a start to see Tullius reclined in the corner, "I know you can not exert yourself. All you must do is bring her to climax." The girl flushes red tilting her face up to stare at the ceiling. Crixus stiffens looking between Tullius and the girl. He had to be joking. 

Evidently not. 

Tullius waves a hand motioning for more wine. The boy from before appears out of no where again handing him a cup. Nobody said anything and Crixus noted an air of impatience from his Dominus. Swallowing hard Crixus steps forward sinking onto his knees between her thighs. The girl was completely hair free, which didn't help him. Crixus had no idea where to begin. Or what to do. He looks down at his hands and decides against it. He wasn't  _that_ thorough. Crixus looks over his shoulder and gets an encouraging nod and a bored wave of a hand. Biting his lip Crixus turns back feeling less than thrilled. Shakily he reaches up and holds the back of her thighs apart. Her skin was soft to the touch which surprised him. The slight rising of his cock did too. Crixus sighs again looking up at her, trying not to be distracted by the way she looks. 

"What's your name?" He asks. The girl blinks looking confused before raising her head enough to look at him. It took her a moment to realize he was serious. 

"C-Canthara." She all but whispers. Crixus nods.

"Canthara, if I hurt you let me know." His words were meant to ease her worries, but it seems all he did was increase them, if the wild eyed look he gets means anything. But she nods and goes back to staring at the ceiling. Crixus stares at the...well no need to beat around a shaved bush, the cunt in front of him with a blank mind. "Fuck it." He mutters. 

Tullius gasps watching Crixus lean forward. The longer this went on the more obvious it was that the man had never done anything like this. He liked the fact that Crixus was nervous. It made everything that much more hotter. The shocked noise the whore made when he began went straight to his cock. Tullius hums, pleased that the Gaul seemed to be a natural at this. He slips his hand into his tunic happy to watch a beautiful woman come undone. 

Crixus was worried he was doing something wrong. Canthara was making all sorts of noises and he wasn't sure if they were of pleasure or pain. Not that he would know. Her thighs flexed under his grip and her hips lifted up. He takes that as a good sign as he sucks on her slightly swollen nub. Canthara shouts curling up grabbing onto his hair. Crixus grunts in discomfort, her nails scrapping against a stitch. To his surprise she murmurs an apology moving her hand to his shoulder. Crixus drags his tongue along her slit glancing up at her whimper. She nodded biting her lip. Crixus mentally shrugs continuing to lap at her folds. He found it fascinating that the more he did the more, well he didn't know what it was, but it was wet and more kept appearing. From behind him he could hear Tullius moan. 

"Look at how juicy you make her cunt." Crixus wasn't an expert on this, or fruit, or meat that wasn't overly cooked but juice wouldn't be what he called this. Then again he didn't have a better word for the wetness. He hums in response, which did  _something_ she liked, since she jerked upwards. Canthara was shivering and tossing her head from side to side. Her nails were digging into his skin but he wasn't told to stop by her or Dominus, so Crixus tested his tongue on the nub he was sucking on earlier. 

This was apparently a good idea.

Canthara shouts loudly, arching herself. Crixus grunts suddenly having his nose against her skin. He wasn't sure what he expected women to smell like, let alone taste but this wasn't it. However it wasn't bad so he kept to his charge. The faster he brought her to completion the faster they could all move on. Crixus remains focused on the spot ignoring the protest of his tongue. She was out right screaming for a minute. Unabashedly thrusting against his face, Crixus found it easier to just suck on the damned thing. He felt her tensing, could hear Tullius in the back ground, the tell tale noise of jerking himself accompanying the groans and cursing. And then all at once, she was convulsing around him, hell even her cunt was pulsing. Crixus was surprised, but being held against her he could pull back to see it. 

As she was coming down, her panting was subsiding into a soft sigh. Her hands left him, and he carefully set her legs down. Canthara bites her lip trying not to smile before she takes a deep breath, face blank and gets herself off the case. Crixus blinks watching her in slight awe as she dresses as if nothing happened. As if his face wasn't covered in her cunt juice. Crixus pauses looking off to the side. The word fit better than he thought it would. Nodding he slowly stands looking at Tullius. The Dominus was chuckling as the slave boy cleaned his hand and thighs.  

"Is there anything else you require of me?" Canthara asks standing off to the side. Tullius waves her off. She nods walking away. Crixus shifts, licking his lips. 

"Tiberius go help him clean up." The boy nods rushing over with a fresh cloth. Crixus offers to take it from him but he was given a dirty look and stood in silence as the boy stood on a chair and wiped his face clean. 

"Are you satisfied Dominus?" He asks after it was done. Tullius grins wickedly at him.

"More than. During your recovery I think we should make something like this a nightly thing." Crixus blushes beat red but nods. What else could he do. "Until then retire to your bed. He nods again and follows the boy to the slaves quarters. 

"Gratitude for you cleaning me." He says, once again trying to be nice. Tiberius rolls his eyes turning to him, looking haughtier than a child his age should. 

"Enjoy your position. I aspire for it." Crixus stares at him in shock before the boy walks off quickly. Crixus sighs heavily shaking his head laying down on a clear space of floor. He had to do something, and apparently he needed to do it fast. 


	32. That Awfully Wonderous Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spartys POV on his night with Illithya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of getting us through season one. Lmao sorry for the wait you guys. I don't mean to put this so far on the back burner. I hope you enjoy.

This was stupid. Spartacus stares at the opposite wall doing what he could to keep his face blank. Stuff like this was asked of a champion. Pfft. Romans were ridiculous. If it wasn't for the thought of Crixus doing stuff like this he would probably refused. As is, anything  _Crixus_ could do, Spartacus could certainly do better. And what a wonderful way to prove it. He was going to treat this Roman woman so good that she won't even remember the Gaul's name. He stiffens a little when Mira steps into his sight. Spartacus takes a deep breath, not quite able to meet her gaze. Somehow she made him feel guilty for not sleeping with her. As if he chose the Roman over Mira. But it simply wasn't like that. 

"Good luck. Champion." She whispers to him after placing a mask over his face. Spartacus opens and closes his palms, he was going to have to find a time to talk to her. Mira was a good person and deserved an explanation. Better than the cold shoulder one he gave. Spartacus scowls behind the mask looking out over the villa as the curtain was pulled open. It was difficult to see. But he could clearly make out the woman across the way. He was surprised when his cock stirs to life. The past year and a half the only interest he has had in the bedroom was for men. Two in particular. There was a pang of guilt thinking about a certain delicate one. But he ignores it. Has to. The blonde,  _Licinia_ he remembers being told her name, stands up and walks towards him. It was seductive and he couldn't deny the fact that she was beautiful. Probably the most exotic woman he has ever been with. Something his cock is happy to explore.

Boldly she crawls across the bed to be in front of him. He could see the glimmer of a challenge in her blue eyes as she trailed a hand up his chest. A little voice in the back of his head was trying to warn him of something. But Spartacus had no time to pay it any mind, he wished to get this over with. And to not compare that challenging look to the one of a certain Gaul. Roughly he pulls her against him, his skin tingling at the sensation if the paint. Touching skin, but not. Her little gasp of breath told him more than words ever could. Her husband was the only man she has ever been with. And judging by the way she trembles when he flips her onto her back in the next second, the man wasn't nearly as well endowed as Spartacus. Or at least, not so confident. Her reaction had him recalling the way Varro quivered their first time with Crixus. Spartacus bites the inside of his cheek. It wouldn't do well to fuck this up, especially when his only explanation would be that he was distracted by thoughts of the men and how he'd rather be sleeping with them. He gently reaches in between them, tracing his index finger down her slit. He was delighted to find her already wet and eager. Behind the mask he smirks as he lines his cock up with her cunt. Spartacus remembers the night he met her. Making him wonder just how long she has been wanting this. He watches, slightly amazed at the way she arches into him as he fills her. Spartacus grips the sheets tightly, moaning low with her. Either her husband was smaller than he thought or the two of them have been apart for a time. The woman was tight, her cunt as hot as it was wet. Sometimes being around Varro and Crixus so much, it was hard to recall the fact that he enjoys cunt too and that he was famed for it before meeting Sura. Keeping in mind that this was the first time for her in a while, Spartacus starts off slowly. Carefully. Her gasps, and mewling sounds reminded him of how much he enjoyed the tenderness of women. The curves that were so malleable under his touch. He cups at her breast, wondering why on earth they would paint over  _her_ nipples. His own were understandable. Then again his mouth was covered so he supposes it doesn't matter. The blonde reaches up wrapping an arm around his shoulders holding tightly. 

Spartacus almost laughs when their masks clink together. A mockery of a kiss. She was panting, and he could already feel her starting to convulse around his cock. A smug sense of pride fuels him as he pulls up having her legs around his waist while he kneels on the bed. The two of them trace each other for a moment, his hips rolling languidly, working her through her orgasm. Hold habits die hard. Spartacus eases her onto her back again, reaching underneath her to grab at her ass. Even as he took his time, he makes sure to add more force than before. Without words, he was coaxing. Encouraging her every time she thrusts back with a pull, and a quick jerk. If he was remembering correctly, and Spartacus is sure he is, then she was most definitely a woman of passion. And her passion was  _exactly_ what he was looking for. The way she pulled his hair sent a thrill down his spine, as if confirming his own thoughts. He ignores the ghost sensation of Crixus' nails scrapping against his scalp. The Thracian focuses on th present reminding himself that Varro and said Gaul were down stairs probably impatiently waiting for him. Spartacus smiles at the thought, and the sigh she breathes out when the arch of his back, and the tilting of her hips drives him deeper into her willing cunt. She was responding well, matching his movements, starting to set the pace even as she pulled at the blankets and silk around them. Spartacus rolls, letting her top him for a moment. Bringing her to the edge. She lets out a muffled little shout pressing their chests together, her mask chinking against his. He was starting to let his impatience get the better of him. Spartacus rolls again, more out of instinct than anything. With every moan and whimper, this Roman woman was quickly becoming the best cunt he's ever had. Which feels like a betrayal to- Spartacus shakes his head, suddenly standing up holding her against him. Her ankles dug into his lower back, obviously surprised but pleased with this new position. Her hands couldn't seem to decide whether or not to tangle themselves in his hair or just claw at his skin. In turn, Spartacus had to continue to remind himself not to choke her, but to keep her steady by cradling the back of her neck. A small voice in the back of his mind hinted that he could find someone down below who enjoyed being throttled. Spartacus grits his teeth. What was wrong with him?

True it had been some time since he had a woman like this. And his legs were actually shaking a little. Spartacus tells himself it was a combination of the exertion of holding her up instead of the fighting the urge to just throwing her onto the bed and pound into her like every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do. Instead, he falls back letting her ride him again, focusing on trying to make her scream. She surprised him by becoming impatient and rolling back pulling and tugging at him to do so. Spartacus groans rutting into her, his cock leaking at the way her cunt pulses around him. Muffled shouts and moans were response to this. He notices one hand gripping the edge of the bed tightly, the other clutching him to her.  Their masks clink together, but neither of them pull away. He almost wants the damned things off. Spartacus bites his lip suddenly wishing he had agreed to sleeping with Mira. Or at the very least, topped Varro once or twice this week. If he didn't do this right then she was going to complain and Lucretia was going to have him punished. Champion or not, the red haired devil-bitch never liked him. Spartacus keens moving to wrap both arms around her as his hips ground down into hers. The Roman gives a frustrated yell before shoving him. Panicked he lets her shove him onto his back pulling her with him, just in case she wasn't finished with him. 

Damn was he right. 

The blonde shifts and lifts herself keeping them connected. Spartacus trails his hands down to her hips while she supports herself on his chest. Keeping their eyes locked she guides his hands to her breast. Spartacus was more than happy to ablidge. As she rotates her hips, she keeps hold of him almost distractedly. He bites back a moan when she arches her back a little. Her head tilts watching him. Testing his luck Spartacus rolls one of her pink tips between his fingers. Her hips were bouncing a little, the intensity between them building. He could honestly say he's never felt this way before. She gasps loudly shoving his hands down, he must have pinched too hard. He stares up at her momentarily concerned. Her cunt pulses around him in answer. 

It was an absolute scramble. The two of them couldn't move fast enough, suddenly in complete sync with what they both wanted next. He almost laughs watching her shove a curtain out of her face as he positions himself behind her. 

Now it was a  _ **fact**_ that he loves his wife. But Spartacus couldn't deny that seeing this Roman woman from this angle was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life. It made his heart ache that he couldn't pause long enough to admire. 

The two of them moan low when he slides back inside her welcoming cunt. Impatiently she starts pushing back against him. Spartacus was panting as his hips started slapping against her ass. Watching it bounce had him leaking. He was afraid he might bruise her hips the way he held her to him. She was loud, encouraging, and as desperate as he was to finish. His head was spinning. Distantly he could hear someone coming this way. His balls tightened up to his body, she was convulsing around him wildly. There were alarms exploding in his head. Yet how could he care? Just a few more strokes and he would come undone. 

The curtain was suddenly pulled back causing both Spartacus and the Roman to jerk and freeze. His cock was pulsing as he filled her. The worst orgasm he has ever had. Heart pounding he releases her as Lucretia stares. Spartacus has a bad feeling about the other masked woman standing next to Batiatus's wife. 

"Oh! Apologies Licinia. We appear to have arrived  _before_ Illythia's finished with Spartacus." His heart stops at her words. The woman he's been with whirls around at the same time he looks down at her. Stunned, he looks between Lucretia and his bed partner. Starting to panic he reaches up and snatches her mask off. 

Illythia's shocked face stares back at him. 

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth when she yanks his mask off. 

Glaber's wife.  _Glaber's_ wife! The amount of betrayal towards his own wife! How could he do this to her?

" _NO!_ " He screams lunging forward wrapping both hands around her throat, strangling her as he shoves her back onto her back. Even with his seed seeping out of her. Gagging, Illythia grips his wrist shoving at his chest, barely trying to push him off of her. Blood was pounding in his ears as a rage clawed to erupt itself out of his chest. He barely heard Lucretia call for the guards. Only noticed them as they dragged Spartacus away, and smacking him upside the head.

As soon as they did he could feel a stone drop in his stomach. He had tried to  _kill_ her. A woman who's only crime is being married to the sack of shit that ruined Spartacus's life and sold Sura into slavery ultimately ending in her death. But that was her husband. Not her. A noble Roman woman. 

There was going to be  **severe** consequences for this. 

 

 

 

Spartacus sits in the tub watching the water turn gold as he cleans himself off. It's been almost an hour. Maybe they were waiting for Glaber? No. Illythia wouldn't want her husband to know what happened. But...Batiatus surely knows. Was he going to crucify him? Spartacus does his best not to shake in fear. He remembers Segovax. More than anything he wishes he knew where Varro and Crixus were. The guards at the door refused to go get them. Informed him that he was to stay here alone until Batiatus came to talk to him. 

The waiting set his teeth on edge. Truthfully waiting was worse than anything he could think of. At least the comforting thought was that he was going to be reunited with his beloved wife. 

When Batiatus finally walks in, Spartacus pushes the thought out of his head. Somehow he just knows that Batiatus wasn't going to kill him. How could he forget that Crixus wasn't one-hundred percent yet? That his precious Thracian was too valuable to simply kill. They sigh when they look at each other. Shaking his head Spartacus starts scrubbing the paint off of him. He was glad that once it was off, it could be as if the event never happened. 

"Apologies." Confused, Spartacus looks up at Batiatus. What Master apologized to his slaves? "It was an unfortunate mistake, coupling you with Glaber's wife. Know that it was not my intent, nor of my knowledge." Spartacus looks him up and down, trying to figure out why Batiatus cares if Spartacus blames him or not. 

"It is I who owes apology." He states matter-of-factually. He sees Batiatus' unasked question. "For a moment my hands were not my own, but those of a man who no longer exists." He notices Batiatus sort of roll his eyes and sneer a little. As if the reminder of who Spartacus used to be, of the deal they made was something he'd rather not think about. 

"Let us not speak of this night again." Spartacus lowers his eyes, but Batiatus calls his attention, "Spartacus. Your loyalty, it honors this Ludus." Words that would probably bring Crixus great joy, makes Spartacus sick to his stomach. A feeling he must ignore. Batiatus doesn't wait for him to answer, he simply walks away. 

Spartacus stays in the bath for a while. He could feel the world opening up under his feet. The night flashes through his mind over, and over again. His cock twitches, eager to relive the event. But his heart, mind and soul are eating themselves alive. Spartacus shakily starts scrubbing himself clean. He thinks he's going to throw up.  _Glaber's wife_. He laid with  **Glaber's** wife. Not just laid with her but....Spartacus swallows hard feeling tears form in the back of his eyes. He doesn't want to be alone right now. But Crixus and Varro weren't expecting him back for another few hours. They were probably asleep. He couldn't bother them. Biting his lip Spartacus sinks into the water. He hated this. This feeling. This place. The Romans. Well...besides Varro, obviously.....he hates this house....


	33. Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auctus' thoughts on the Gaul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry for the wait! The challenge so far is kicking my ass but I have faith. I wanted to finish these two chapters before I worked on it anymore. I hope you guys are enjoying it! Thanks for all your support and encouragement. Comments kudos summaries and bunnies are always welcomed. I hope you enjoy!

It was a bit of a shock to him when Oenomaus instructed Barca to work with the recruit again. Usually Gannicus paired with his lover. Auctus agrees fully that his Barca needed a man to fight with. When Dominus scolded the Beast of Carthage for back talking it was all the Grecian could do to not throw his spear. The old fuck hasn't been here in almost a year and thinks he could just waltz back in like he never left? Auctus shakes his head. Maybe he was a tad bitter about being left with the man's incompetent son but that was neither here nor there.  _Nobody_ should talk to Barca like that. He smiles at the sound of wood smacking against flesh. Auctus turns from the pulvinous with a grin.

"The Gaul winces from spear," A grin to the crowd, "as he would from my cock!" Laughter follows the statement. 

"Is my  _long_ hard weapon to much for you little man?" Barca teases, the end of his spear across the under side of Crixus' ass. Auctus sucks in a breath watching the flesh jiggle.

He's obviously taken note of Crixus. The Gaul was of a form and seemed hell bent to do anything for the Celt's attention. It was adorable. Reminded him of a pup. Naturally he's taken to teasing Barca with this knowledge. Being the jealous man he was Auctus delighted in causing it. Lead to some of the best sex of their lives.

It was later when Auctus leans against a beam watching as again and again Barca knocks the little bastard down onto the ground. Even knowing he was woefully unmatched, Crixus kept getting back up. It was actually admirable. Auctus lets his eyes and mind wonder as the two of them spar. Off to the side he notices Gannicus showing no mercy on one of the lesser men. It was no secret that he was pouting. His preference was to spar with Auctus or Barca. Oenomaus on occasion. Once Auctus asked him about it, and the blond had laughed explaining that he simply wished for a challenge. One of the reasons he was so fiercely loyal to his dark friend was because he was the only man Gannicus has met so far that he doubts he would defeat. Auctus raises an eyebrow noticing that, while Gannicus is swinging his swords about looking impatient, his eyes were  _glued_ to the Gaul. Auctus smirks.

Barca, apparently has had enough and hits Crixus in the jaw with his shield hard enough to draw blood sending the Gaul spiraling out onto the edge of the cliff. Auctus tilts his head noticing when Crixus dodges a blow to the back of the head Barca hesitates. As if hoping Crixus notices the opening he has. The two get back to a standing position. Auctus doesn't miss the way Barca uses his spear to partially guide Crixus farther away from the cliff. Eagerly Auctus looks over to Gannicus who was scowling. Interesting. It didn't take much longer for Crixus to end up on his back. 

Barca kneels down quickly, a hand brushing the hair out of the Gaul's face before running across his chest and resting briefly on his shoulder. Checking him for a wound while feeling him up. Auctus blinks with a forced smile. And the bastard had the gal to be jealous over Auctus. 

"You are better matched against wooden men." Barca roughly grabs Crixus' cock through his subligaria, drawing a cry of pain. Something during the entire day's training hasn't been able to do. "Work the palus, Gaul." Auctus licks his lips walking over to his lover while Crixus stumbles his way over to the pulvinous as Barca instructed. 

"A little  _hands on_ training with the Gaul hmm?" He comments liking the slight pink of Barca's cheeks. 

"The little cunt's skull was too thick. I had to go for something more malleable." Barca snips at him. Auctus laughs glancing up noticing Oenomaus encouraging Gannicus to go talk to Crixus. Seems he wasn't the only one who noticed the Celt's interest in the man. He hopes Oenomaus recognized Crixus' attraction to the Champion. 

"Sure. No need to pretend with me." Auctus shrugs patting his shoulder. Their eyes meet and as always, the look in Barca's eyes take his breath away. The man was truly beautiful. For a little while the two of them dance around each other. A smack here and their with their spears. It was fun and refreshing. 

"Barca!" The two turn at Gannicus's voice. "If you have done with your man's cock," a swagger and spreading of arms, "I would have proper contest." Auctus laughs good naturedly looking past Gannicus to see Crixus meekly hitting the wooden man. 

"The gods blessings Barca with another little man to  _fuck_." Crixus looks up just in time to see Auctus jerk his sword in place of his cock. The blush staining his cheeks was adorable. 

 

 

The rest of the days training was long and gruesome. Crixus was instructed to haul a log around while Gannicus leapt between Auctus and Barca. The man must have been of a mood because he was extra forceful with the blows. It was a relief when Oenomaus told the gladiators to eat and rest. Auctus felt a slight sympathy for the Gaul. Shaking his head he walks away. Before the two of them ate, Auctus asked Barca to accompany him to check in on the birds. He waits till they were out of ear shot of the others,

"Crixus begins to show promise." He remarks not looking at his lover. Doesn't mean he can't hear the scoff.

"Upon his back?" Auctus grins to himself. Barca always fell for his traps.

"The man always rises. A trait to be admired." Barca laughs disbelievingly, 

"Oh so you have eyes for the Gaul now?" Auctus looks up at him a broad smile upon his face,

"And if I did?" Barca's face turns to complete seriousness. 

"I would fucking kill you." Auctus takes a few steps a head of him, before suddenly whipping around throwing a punch. Used to this tactic, Barca easily doges his smile returning. Proud that he managed this, he leaves himself open for a slap. Something Auctus takes advantage of. Barca laughs faking him out over a jab. Auctus ducks under an actual hit grabbing Barca from under the arm, and the side shoving him against the wall. Teasingly he reaches up and bites Barca on the ear, getting more hair than skin in his mouth for the effort. The two growl, playfully just before Barca launches them backwards. Auctus was slammed against the opposing wall with a grunt. The two grapple at each other spinning around and around, Barca managing to shove him against the door frame before being pulled to the other side. With both of them in the door way, Auctus cups the side of Barca's face.

"Come here." He pants cock aching already. Barca grips his shoulder tightly, shifting them, in a way Auctus  _knows_ means he wasn't topping tonight. And he was completely alright with that. Rough grabbing has turned to soft caresses, and loving gazes. Auctus smiles softly before their mouths crash together in a different kind of dominance battle. It was out of the corner of his eyes that he noticed something wrong with the birds........

 

 

Auctus storms back into their cell kicking over some if the crates. Barca grimaces as he sits on the bed watching him. He hated the fact that he was unable to help his lover. They were unable to go out right kill the Syrian's. And neither of them were sure if they have gained position. Wouldn't learn until the baths. Sighing he lets Auctus smash something's about for a moment before he reaches out, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Barca mouths down his neck enjoying the shaky sigh from the Grecian. 

"Come. I know what will cheer you up." Barca instructs hauling Auctus to his feet. Like a pouty child he follows. They make their way back out to the food benches noting that Crixus was working the pulvinous by himself. Auctus looks up at Barca confused. 

"What are you planning?" Barca chuckles darkly. 

"Wait here." Auctus frowns watching the Beast order the rest of the Gladiators out. He stays silent when Barca crosses the sands to talk to Crixus. He has  _no_ clue what was said between the two of them but suddenly Crixus straightens his shoulders and nods firmly. Barca pats the Gaul on the back and makes his way back to Auctus. 

"What have you done?" He immediately questions. Barca grins making him stay seated. Auctus huffs while Barca straddles the bench making Auctus do the same so they were both facing Crixus' back. Auctus wiggles against Barca's chest. 

"And what may I ask are you two up to?" Oenomaus' voice draws their attention. Barca waves him off. 

"Training." A scoff in reply but the retreating footsteps were a good sign. 

Auctus' eyes widen comically when Crixus takes a deep breath and strips down naked. He kicks his clothes out of his reach and continues to attack the wooden man. 

" _What_ have you done?" Auctus breathes out, distracted by the way the setting sun seems to make Crixus's skin glow. Barca hums running a hand down Auctus' chest. 

"Shush and enjoy. Ignore me and focus on the little man." Auctus shivers when Barca's hand slips into his subligaria. "Look at the way his ass bounces with every blow." Barca kisses down his neck gripping the base of his lovers cock as he does. 

"Fuck, Barca." Auctus growls through gritted teeth. Barca grins at the spreading legs. 

"He's so  **eager** to please. To do his best." Barca works his wrist the best he could with the clothing in his way. "Imagine what the two of us could do to someone like that." Auctus moans, loud enough for Barca to cover his mouth. Crixus pauses nervously. Not turning, but his movements are slower than before as he continues his assault on his imagined opponent. 

"Barca you cunt " Auctus whines. "This is truly cruel." Barca chuckles. 

"Why? Because you can see it? Just picture him tied up and helpless to do anything but take our cocks." Auctus sucks in a breath while Barca's thumb runs across his head. 

"Fuck the gods. Barca he- fuck we could have him begging for it. So easily." Barca licks the shell of his ear. 

"Tears of frustration, pleasure and pain streaming down his face as I choke him out. Have him desperate for your cock in ass." Auctus grips Barca's thighs hard enough that they leave bruises. "As, you now sit desperate for mine." Auctus growls pushing backwards against him. 

"Continue teasing and find your own to cell to sleep in tonight." He warns. Barca chuckles nipping at his shoulder. 

"Lift up." He instructs. Auctus bites his lip doing as he was told. Barca makes quick work of their subligaria. In his entire  _life_ Auctus doesn't think he's ever been so eager for cock.

"Do not even bother prepping me, I am past the point." Auctus snaps. Barca grins wickedly, lining himself correctly. 

"Fair enough." 

The two moan as he pushes past the outer muscles. Neither of them usually like to be taken sans preparation, but Auctus couldn't deny the relief he feels at the burn that their lovemaking usually lacks. Auctus slowly lowers himself fully careful not to make too much noise and alarm any nearby guards or worse, Crixus himself. The two of them start rocking. Gently and leisurely at first. While Crixus works the palus, he spins around at one point, not paying them any attention. The pair of them caught a whole eye full of his half hard cock in return. Auctus curses under his breath adding more force into his thrusts.

"Fuck the gods." He mutters gripping the bench tight enough to draw a small amount of blood. Barca chuckles shifting a little.

"No love, fuck me." He leans down biting Auctus' shoulder, "And imagine, how it would be, to fuck  _him_." Auctus was panting heavily, Barca had angled himself  **ju** **st** against his overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Shut up." Auctus snaps. Louder than he should have. Barca glances up, at Crixus a small bit of pride forming for the little man as he keeps his back straight and continues beating the pulvinous. The tight lipped look tells Barca that the Gaul knows  _exactly_ what was happening behind him. He wonders if the man will ever mention it. 

"Someone feels close." Barca whispers, his voice gruff with the effort to stay silent. Usually the pair of them are loud enough to have the guards complaining to Batiatus.

Auctus, seemingly past the point of words bows his head with a whimper. Barca loves the fact that he can see the Grecian man's leg shaking. It wasn't often that Barca managed to do so while topping. Smirking he reaching around to continue his previous torture on his lovers cock. Auctus brings a hand up and bites the back of it, eyes squeezed shut. The soft broken mewl was almost enough to send Barca over the edge. He growls low in his throat ignoring the scrapping noise the bench was starting to make with the force of his thrusts. Auctus shudders his hand falling from his mouth reaching back to pull on Barca's hair drawing him in for a kiss. Barca hums feeling Auctus' cock pulsing in his grip as his hand was covered in hot almost clear cum. Feebly Auctus rocks against him breaking their lips apart. Barca replaces his mouth with two fingers keening when Auctus happily started cleaning them with his tongue. With a few more hard thrusts Barca draws Auctus against him, holding him tightly. He can  _feel_ his partner grinning while being filled with Barca's seed.

"Best surprise ever." Auctus whispers kissing his forehead. Barca chuckles pulling out carefully. They grin at each other, dressing quickly.

"Go, I'll meet you in the baths. I'll go get the Gaul." Auctus gives him a quick kiss, standing up a little unsteadily. 

"Hurry up. We find out if we gain position in a little bit." Barca nods rushing over to Crixus. The recruit flinches a little when he slaps his shoulder. 

"Gratitude. I hope you enjoyed the extra training." Crixus nods, eyes ever wide and full of questions. "Come, it's time for the baths. You get to see the process on how we learn who fights in the games." Eagerly, Crixus rushes and puts away the wooden swords and follows suit. Barca rolls his eyes leading the way. Honestly. He wasn't sure what Auctus saw in the man, other than that tight ass and impressive cock. He smiles when they round the corner and he sees Auctus undressing. Barca could feel his heart swell, it's taken a while but he thinks he can finally admit that he loves the stupid Greek. Truly. 

 


	34. How to Comfort a Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spartacus gets comforted by a fellow gladiator in the baths after his night with Iliythia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-BOOM! See I told you guys! Here's that other chapter! Ha! When I'm in the zone, man am I in the zone! Thank you guys again for all of your help with this. And being patient! I love your comments, kudos, summaries and bunnies! I hope I'm getting all the requests done. If someone knows a way to actually like send a message on AO3, (cause my bitch ass hasn't figured it out) just send me your requests so I can put it in my request folder. (That I have TOTALLY already made. What?) Anyways thanks again! I hope you enjoy!

It was late. But he couldn't sleep. It could be the uncomfortable noises his brother was making beside him. Maybe it was the fact that Crixus had asked Varro to follow him and neither of them have returned in the past few hours. If he was truthful with himself it was the fact that almost as soon as training was completed, Spartacus was summoned by Lucretia and Agron hasn't seen him since. Sighing heavily he sits up and looks around. Bodies were splayed all over the place, snoring scattered around, he doesn't think he will be missed. Nodding to himself, Agron moves to the edge of the cell motioning for a guard to come over. 

"What would need to happen for you to get me into the baths tonight?" The guard raises an eyebrow. "Is it coin, cunt, or cock?" The man looks him up and down quickly before licking his lips. 

"Your mouth on my cock, and you can stay in there as long as you wish." Agron rolls his eyes. Truly Romans were so damned simple. 

"Then we have an agreement. Get me out." He mutters glancing back at Duro. "And make it quick before that one wakes." No need to pretend that he doesn't give a fuck about his brother. Everyone already figured that one out. With a nod the guard unlocks the door and Agron slips out. 

"This way." Agron rolls his eyes. No, he thought he was going to drop to his knees right here. Fucking idiot. Shaking his head, Agron follows around a couple of corners before they slip into an empty corner cell. The chains and blood on the wall were a little disconcerting, but he figures, (hopes) that this was just where people were sent to be punished. 

"And what should I call you?" He asks watching unimpressed as the Roman fumbles with his lappet. There was a glance. 

"Saville." Agron blinks but shrugs as clothing was maneuvered enough for the man's cock to be freed. Well...he's seen worse. Agron sighs shaking his head kneeling. It was a shame that most Roman's weren't circumcised. Really, was there anything worse than giving a turtle dick head? And there wasn't even enough straw on the ground to make this comfortable for a long period of time, so the German decides to make this quick. Fucking Romans. 

"Very well, Saville. Let's do this." He mutters more to himself. He misses the nervous gulp Saville takes while leaning against the wall. 

Agron supports himself with one hand on Saville's hip, using the other to coax the half mast cock to life. The fact that it didn't take a lot said more than Agron needed to know. He hides a smirk. This was going to be the start of a wonderful partnership. Teasingly, Agron slips the head in his mouth, closing his eyes to hide his revulsion. The feeling of excess skin sliding backwards towards his hand was almost more than he could bare. The louder than safe moan was encouraging though. Agron sucks gently before sliding further down. He uses the little hitches in breath from Saville as cues. Sucking here, bobbing there. At one point he got overly confident and tried sliding down to the base. After all he's fucked bigger cocks than this. His throat didn't appreciate this thought and he gagged like a damned amateur. The action had Saville bucking so he doesn't bother with caring. Agron uses a corkscrew motion adding a little more force to his sucks, the warm pre-cum not tasting as awful as he had imagined it would. He could feel Saville shaking under his touch and he couldn't help the self pride that rose in his chest. 

"F-fuck, I ah, I think I'm gonna-" Agron ignores him as Saville breaks off into a quiet shout. He didn't appreciate the way the man clings to his head. The way his hair was pulled was all wrong. Not that this was supposed to be enjoyable for him, but he can't help the thrill that shoots through him as salty hot liquid hits the back of his throat. He swallows to keep himself from gagging at the sudden assault. He waits, using gentle strokes to milk the last of Saville's orgasm as the guard comes down. Agron pulls off with a wet gasp, a trail of spit connecting his tongue with the tip. Saville makes a noise looking down. Agron fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's had enough of this. His knees hurt, and there was a strain on his shins. Clearing his throat he stands up, neither of them paying any attention to the popping sound his joints made. 

"Now I'm going to the baths." Agron tells him, tempted to pat the man's face. Saville blinks stupidly at him. His face was flushed and his lips parted as he panted. Truly he looks thoroughly ravished. Agron turns away quickly to hide his laughter. Fuck the gods. Even Agron knows he isn't that good with his mouth. 

"Viiiirgiiin." He whispers to himself as he walks through the halls. 

Agron was still grinning when he rounded the corner. He freezes when he spots Spartacus. His heart actually stops for half a minute. The man truly was a god. Gold shimmering in the water around him, the shadows flickering across his features illuminating his sharp cheek bones and the oh too tempting biceps. It took a moment to remember how to breathe. Agron swallows thickly thanking whatever he could that this was happening tonight. Duro was going to be pissed. His smile fades when he notices the look on the Champion's face. The man looks like he's been crying. His shoulders were slumped and he was just staring at the water. A haunted expression ghosting his handsome features. Agron steps forward the echo of his footsteps making Spartacus blink. 

"Spartacus?" He calls out walking to the edge of the tub. There was a soft scoff before blue eyes look up at him. Agron sucks in a harsh breath. The amount of hurt shining in them was startling. "Are you...alright?" Spartacus visibly shakes. 

"I was just..." He glances back down at the water, "cleaning." His sentence ends in a sigh. Agron shifts from foot to foot. 

"May I...join you?" Spartacus shrugs. Agron hesitates for a second before he strips and climbs in. 

"I don't know how clean you will get." The Champion mutters scrapping something off of his side. Agron makes a face realizing Spartacus was covered in gold paint. 

"Fucking Romans." He grumbles with a shake of his head. Agron isn't sure why this makes Spartacus laugh softly. But the sound makes his chest tighten. The two of them sit in silence for a little while. Agron off to the side, enjoying the hot water, and the view, while Spartacus scrubs his front down. "I, uh," Agron clears his throat when Spartacus had turned to face away from him, 

"What?" Spartacus asks over his shoulder in a clipped tone. Agron could feel his courage faltering. He sighs deeply. 

"I can get your back. I doubt you can reach, and I doubt a guard is going to help." Spartacus looks him up and down for a moment before looking towards the door way.

"I had thought that..." His voice trails off, a measure of hurt echoed in his expression. Agron tilts his head. He wonders if Spartacus knows his friend and his rival are lovers with and without him. 

"Varro stayed up late waiting for your return." He lies. Spartacus turns to him, face soft and practically begging for reassurance. He was adorable. "Last I saw him he was slumped against the wall, exhaustion over powering concern for his dear friend." He continues, noticing the tension leaving Spartacus a little. The Thracian nods a small smile gracing his lips. 

"Gratitude. For the information and the help." Spartacus speaks quietly handing the tool over. Agron gulps when Spartacus turns his back. He forces himself to steel his nerve. Using a cup that was off to the side, Agron pours some water across his shoulders. He watches the trail they make, tongue dying to do the same. Agron bites his cheek focusing on his task. And the nail marks that disturb the paint here and there. 

It was tedious to say the least. However, it wasn't without its perks. Watching the roll of Spartacus's shoulders when he goes over a sensitive area. The shift of the water as Agron rinses him off every now and again clearing some of the paint. Standing this close to the man in general. Agron bites the inside of his cheek feeling his cock twitch to life. Now was certainly not the time. Spartacus scoffs with a shake of his head. Agron pauses, his hands hovering right above the top of Spartacus' ass. Eyes glued to the way the water teases the skin. 

"Something amuses you, Champion?" He asks, quieter than he meant to. Spartacus turns around without warning, Agron gasps softly taking a step back quickly so as not to accidentally touch anything he wasn't allowed to. 

"You." Agron feels the heat flood his face, but Spartacus continues on as if Agron wasn't acting like a fucking idiot. "If you want something, you should simply ask. Instead of running circles around topic of conversation." Spartacus steps forward, Agron takes another hurried one back. Distracted his foot slips and he finds himself suddenly under the water with a loud splash. Sputtering he surfaces staring up at the Champion with a stunned look. Spartacus smirks down at him eyes twinkling. 

"I-I was simply offering assistance." He whispers vaguely aware that he's lost the strigil. Spartacus nods, squatting. 

"How  _much_ assistance?" He challenges. Agron makes a choking noise thankful that the water wasn't clear. Spartacus cups the back of Agron's neck. "I remember seeing you and your brother the other night." Spartacus informs. Agron almost moans thinking about it. The three men together had been the most exotic and enticing thing he had ever seen. 

"A-apologies. I meant no harm or offense." Which was true. Spartacus chuckles softly. 

"You are no threat to me Agron. In time perhaps. But as of now?" Agron jerks when Spartacus reaches into the water wrapping his hand around Agron's hardened cock. "Now, you're merely a curiosity." Agron licks his lips taking a shaky breath. 

"Curiosity?" Spartacus straddles him twisting his wrist as he strokes firmly. 

"Varro is closest, and only friend here. Crixus is, well Crixus. I would like to see if I could have you, as a..." He trails off taking a breath as he continues to drive away Agron's senses, "trusted ally for lack of a better term." 

"A-and you believe  _this_ will secure my loyalty?" Agron questions, blinking away the image of Donar. Spartacus leans down tracing his tongue across Agron's lower lip. 

"More of your silence. Should you brag, or boast, I shall deny your words and know that you can not be trusted." He explains quietly. Agron feels his heart hammering away against his ribs. His fingers were tingling as they found Spartacus' thighs in the water. 

"Then let me prove myself." Spartacus raises his eyebrows when Agron tightens his grip, lifting his hips. "In more ways than one." They grin at each other briefly before Spartacus guides Agron's cock to his awaiting hole. 

"Let us see if you are truly worthy of that mark." He challenges. Agron grunts with the effort it takes to shove himself down to the base. Spartacus jerks crying out. He likes to think it is just in surprise. 

"Fuck, you're larger than anticipated." Agron preens. "Hold back pride until we see if you know how to use length to advantage." Spartacus mutters. Agron chuckles gripping hips. 

"Yes, Let's."


	35. A Thracian Free Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varro and Crixus talk about what they should do with their free time without Spartacus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to you guys I have not abandoned this fic! There is so much going on lately. Looking for a house, I got that promotion but I'm working over time the last month as a result, training people trying to get my kid to talk the challenge, and a demand for Severest Lessons. Yeesh. But I've managed to talk to my friend and she has extended the challenge due date to March 2020 and so I have more time to catch up on that later. So here we are! I'm going to bust out two chapters of CBCB this week and then there's going to be a few chapters of SL and then there is going to be like an explosion of stuff for the challenge. Thank you guys SO SO SOOOO much for your patience, comments, kudos, bunnies and summaries I love them! I hope you enjoy!

Varro gives a half hearted scowl as Spartacus is lead away. The cheeky bastard shoots him a grin and a wink over his shoulder. If he didn't know any better, he would think Spartacus was looking forward to this. Probably only so he could brag, but Varro finds it cute. Shaking his head Varro finishes bathing looking around at the others. He could of course shoot some dice with Rhaskos and Donar. And lose all the money he has earned. Money that should go to his wife. After spending a night chained to that wall he's learned his lesson. Besides, he didn't want to spend another evening listening to Rhaskos make fun of the blond German for taking an interest in the new kid. Duro? Maybe it was Agron. Varro gets the brothers confused. Not that it mattered. It didn't escape either his own or Spartacus's notice that the elder had eyes for the Champion. It was one thing to tease him and have an audience while they were with the Gaul, but joining? He wasn't sure. Then again… he sighs thinking about a fellow Gladiator that they lost today… he wishes he knew the man's name. Varro looks over the stone tub at the Germans. Maybe it was a good idea for Spartacus to have a couple of back ups. 

 

"Varro." Smirking he turns around. Or just one.

 

"Crixus." The two stare at each other for a moment before Crixus gives a soft smile. 

 

"I have something to discuss with you. Privately." He informs, not caring that Varro still held a strigil in his hand. His voice was low enough that those who would spread rumors, (Ashur across the way) could not hear. Varro grins. 

 

"Then let us have words." Crixus rolls his eyes and walks away. Making a face, Varro follows him, fully aware that he's left his subligaria and his towel behind. 

 

"Bold of you to assume I meant anything other than words." Crixus scolds when they reach his cell. Varro shuts the door behind him with a grin. 

 

"You have had the chance all week to break words with me in private. But it is only when Spartacus is occupied you decide it important enough." Crixus folds his arms, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

Varro shrugs. "I'm a Roman, that doesn't make me an idiot." 

 

A grin splits Crixus' face."That bares argument." 

 

Varro laughs softly. "Bitch."

 

Crixus drops his towel as he steps forward, his rising cock reason enough for Varro's own to thicken. Eyes falling to a mark on his hip jar his thoughts.

 

"Make me yours then and prove my assumption false." He whispers running his nails up Varro's side. 

 

"When you tell me what that is." Varro answers, his thumb rubbing circles on the bruise. 

 

Crixus grimaces looking down at it. "Domina gave me that this morning. I think it has something to do with the woman Spartacus is currently fucking." 

 

Varro chuckles. It was too early for the actual act to have started. He was sure the Thracian was still being prepped. Earlier he had spotted Ashur directing some slaves with a bucket of gold paint to one room and a bucket of white to another. Spartacus was about to undergo some seriously odd shit. 

 

"Well that's not very nice. Naevia does not get to mark you. Neither do I or Spartacus." He teases. Crixus purses his lips in thought for a moment. Varro smiles reassuringly at him to let him know it was a jest. It took a lot of trust for Crixus to tell them about Naevia. He does not wish to break it with unintended insult. 

"Well...I was with Naevia earlier today." Varro nods. He's been meaning to mention to Crixus that they couldn't keep skipping lunch for quickies. It was too dangerous and they needed to eat. 

 

"Right. And?" Crixus clears his throat glancing down at his hip and back up. Varro blinks at him. "Did...did she?" Crixus covers the hand on his hip with a sheepish grin. 

 

"I believe if I continue asking Lucretia to make the same mark the rest of you will be able to-" Varro doesn't wait for him to finish, falling to his knees and covering the mark with his mouth.

 

"Fuckthefuckinggods!" He yelps at the contact.  Looking down he was startled to see the look of bliss across Varro's handsome face. Eyes shut as he added to the bruise. Crixus bites his cheek trying to suppress a whimper. It had been a world altering realization that his  _ skin _ was sensitive. As a Gladiator he has learned to ignore blows, small cuts and twisted bones, strained and pulled muscles and the ache of exhaustion. Yet when Varro, or as he learned earlier today, Naevia, ghosted their teeth across him, it made his knees go weak.

 

Wide eyed, he watches Varro pull away. A line of drool following obscenely. Crixus doesn't miss the way his blue eyes dart to Crixus' erection. It doesn't take a genius to know what the Roman was thinking. However Crixus knows that if Varro gets his way, the former champion will be on his ass in seconds. 

 

In the same second Varro reached out to wrap his hand around Crixus' cock, Crixus snatched a fist full of Varro's curly hair.

The two pause looking at each other. 

 

"That close are we?" The blonde teases with a slow grin. Crixus scowls down at him. He releases his hair to smack at Varro's hand. 

 

"We are not limited by time nor location. To the bed with you, you cock hungry cunt." He snaps, turning and all but stomping to his bed. Varro's laugh echoes across the walls. The sound shouldn't have sent a jolt through his spine, but Crixus still had to suppress a shiver. 

 

" _ I'm _ cock hungry? Ok. Sure. Spartacus does have a nice curve to his." What. 

 

"The fuck did you just say?" Crixus asks whirling around. He didn't realize how close Varro had gotten and almost smacked him as a result. Varro was grinning from ear to ear. 

 

"I did not stutter." Crixus knows the man was toying with him. Trying to get a rise from him. The issue was that it was working. An uncomfortable twisting in his stomach told him that. 

 

"So if you crave the Thracian so badly, why follow me to begin with?" He asks, folding his arms. Crixus resigns himself to arguing but he refuses to throw a punch. There was a personal matter he wished to discuss after all. 

 

Varro shrugs. "You’ve got a tight ass and a hot mouth." He should have swung. It would have hurt less. Not liking the idea of having deep feelings for Spartacus's Roman pet, Crixus chalks it up to his ego. 

 

"One you can visit again in your dreams if you continue mentioning the damned rabbit." He snips. Varro must have seen the hurt on his face. His grin turns into a concerned frown and he sits down onto the bed. 

 

"Spartacus was my first male lover." Crixus raises an eyebrow. "You being my second. I do not have much comparison between the two of you. Just that I have had Spartacus's cock in ass more frequently than yours." Crixus could feel the heat flood his cheeks. 

 

"Are you saying you need a reminder?" Varro's grin returns and Crixus hates the fact that he feels relieved in its presence. 

 

"It would not be unwelcome. If that is what you seek." Varro slides a hand up Crixus' thigh as he speaks.

 

“What I seek and what you speak of are opposites.” Crixus smirks noticing the pause from the Roman. “I did not lie when I said I wished to break words.” He liked the light blush that stained Varro’s face.  

 

“Oh. Then break them and see them well received.” Crixus squirms a little. 

 

“I have a request that I have been unable to remove from thoughts…” Varro watches him patiently, blue eyes more calming than they had a right to be. Crixus swallows a little. “The other night, when you decided I needed a punishment of sorts.” An eyebrow quirk.

 

“Right. Did you feel it was undeserved?”  Yes. 

 

“Not exactly… but not the point.” Varro wraps his arms around Crixus’ thighs resting his chin on the Gaul’s midsection. “I was… sort of, possibly thinking about… having it happen again.” There was a couple of heartbeats where neither spoke. Crixus found it difficult to look at Varro directly. Yet he hated that there was little to look at in his cell other than the hunk of man that clung to him in silence. 

 

Varro stares up at him trying to process what it was that Crixus was insinuating. Does this mean that...Crixus...absolutely not. It couldn’t be possible. The Undefeated Gaul….wanted _him_ **Varro** to…..He must have heard incorrectly. That had to be it. Crixus. The Almighty Crixus couldn’t _possibly_ have enjoyed it. Mind in overdrive, Varro recalls the other night. It was so beautifully captured in his mind, how could he not? And there was no denying it. The possibility was there. It could in fact be real! Finally he blinks. 

 

“Say again?” He had to be sure after all. Clarification was extremely important. Crixus flushes a deep red before pulling away, stalking to the other side of the cell.

 

“Forget it. I understand the…strangeness of the question. If I have made you uncomfortable, then I apologize.” He mumbles. Not for the first time looking smaller than his loud aggressive manner makes him out to be. Varro feels a moment of panic realizing that he could have waited too long to respond and must have made Crixus nervous or embarrassed. Second guessing himself was something Varro noticed Crixus did in the bedroom when it came to new things.   

 

“Apologies? None are required. I am far from uncomfortable with the request Crixus.” Varro informs calmly. There were a few moments in the past where Varro has gotten the impression that whereas people explored  _ Crixus _ to see what they could pleasure him with, that there might not have been a lot of chances for the Gaul to explore what  **he** enjoys. The way his brown eyes snap to Varro were another hint to this. Full of hope, nerves and lust. Gods save him, but those eyes would be the death of him.    

 

“You understand what I have asked of you, have you not?” Crixus asks. The snapping was to be expected. Varro smiles. It was nice to no longer take the anger as such. Knowing that it was Crixus being insecure and lashing out was...well...cute.

 

“Yes you cunt, I am aware.” Crixus glares at him for the insult. “You wish for me to throw you on to the bed and tan your hide until your ass is the color of Domina’s hair.” Crixus stares at him in slight horror. Mostly because the bastard wasn’t wrong. The thought of the very act described has been haunting his thoughts for almost a week. 

 

“Blame falls to you.” Crixus huffs leaning against the wall. Varro raises an eyebrow relaxing back onto the bed using his elbows as support. Crixus forces his gaze away from the half erect cock that was now on display. 

 

“And how is that?” Varro questions with a tilt of his head and a smirk. Crixus swallows hard, wishing he hadn’t shed his towel as soon as he had. He almost regrets bringing this topic to life as well. 

 

“In all my years of servitude I have been whipped, smacked, kicked, punched, stabbed, sliced, bitten, scratched, slapped, kneed, and hit with stones.” Varro blinks making a note to question some of those later. “But never,” He slowly walks back over, standing at the edge of the bed in between Varro’s knees, “has a soul  _ dared _ to do as you have.” 

 

“Is that so? I’m honored.” Varro comments, a little afraid to interrupt him. Whatever was running through Crixus’ mind has his cock coming to full mast and he wasn’t going to delay this anymore than he already had by stupidly bringing up Spartacus. 

 

“Be honored in my asking for it to happen again,” Crixus murmurs, “and find honor forever stripped should you continue mocking me.” Varro sits up enough to run a hand down Crixus’ chest. 

 

“You have not  _ actually _ asked me Crixus.” Crixus groans low in his throat as Varro’s tongue makes its way across his chest. “So,” a bite, gentle enough for Crixus to hiss at the contact, but not enough pressure for a mark “ask. Call to Varro and Varro shall answer your call.” He whispers against Crixus’ skin. Crixus shifts a little, surprised by how fast the both of them were out of breath. 

 

“Varro,” His voice was gruff even to his own ears, “please.” Varro mouths at him.

 

“Please what?” Crixus could  _ hear _ the smile in the smug bastard’s voice. He had a second to debate this. Could he ask this? Say the words that have been trying to spill from his lips for days? One of Varro’s hands finds the underside of his backside, the contact all the motivation he needed.

 

“Please,  _ spank _ me.” He breathes out shakily. 

 

Without hesitation, Varro lifts Crixus off the ground by the back of his thighs. Crixus barely has time to yelp in surprise before his back was colliding with his bed. He blinks at the ceiling in confusion, his heart pounding against his ribs uncontrollably. This wasn’t what he had in mind. Crixus looks down at Varro shivering slightly as the blond kisses his way past Crixus’s hips, sliding off the bed. This was...backwards? Sort of? He doesn’t claim to be an expert in spanking but he’s positive he should be facing the other direction. Varro glances at him, eyes twinkling with delight. Not exactly a good sign. 

 

“Hush Little Man. I know what I’m doing.” Crixus sure fucking hopes so. 

 

“Do not call me such.” He snips. That was Barca’s nickname for him after all. Varro rolls his eyes ignoring him as he dips his head down. Crixus jerks when the flat of Varro’s tongue connects with his hole. “Jupiter’s cock!” Crixus gasps. Varro stays focused on his self appointed task, although there was a distinct air of amusement surrounding the man. If he wasn’t being  _ assaulted _ in such a delicious manner, Crixus would find fault with that. Currently, he was too busy writhing, legs spreading wide as his head throws itself back. He had no idea when his eyes squeezed shut. All he knows was Varro was a damned devil with his talent. If the tightening of his balls were any indication, then this wasn’t going to last much longer. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ! Varro if you do not cease I’m going to-” Crixus barely had the words out before his near boneless body was being forced to roll. He grunts as he moves, trying to assist to make himself a little more comfortable. But Varro’s hands were quicker at the moment. Mind not clouded by lust, he was able to maneuver Crixus how he wished. 

 

“Worry not, dear Gaul. I shall give you what you wish,” Crixus’s eyes widen feeling Varro’s heavy body cover him, voice suddenly in his ear, “what you  _ crave _ .” The sensation of his hot breath on his neck sent tremors through him. Once more, the bastard was right. 

 

“Your arrogance is astounding.” Crixus grumbles. Varro kisses the side of his temple, a light thwack to his rear causing him to twitch. 

 

“My arrogance? I am simply doing what is asked of me.” He all but coos. Crixus makes a face, ready to elbow him in the face if he kept this up. 

 

Smack.

 

Crixus freezes, eyes snapping to the wall. His entire body seemed to hum in anticipation. He could feel Varro watching him as he takes a deep breath. He blinks.

 

Smack.

 

Crixus wriggles underneath him. This wasn’t like last time. It was still...enjoyable? Yet somehow it was wrong. Not what he was looking for. Varro grinds against him a little, the heat of his cock having Crixus hitch his breath. Half of his mind wished to forget this whole thing, demand Varro put on that damned strap-on and finish them both off. The calmer side of his brain knew that if he backed out of this now he was never going to revisit this. With anyone. 

 

Anyone…..

 

“You are not to speak of this.” He mutters hands shifting to grip the edge of his bed. Varro chuckles, the sound reverberating through Varro into Crixus. It shouldn’t make his cock leak. Yet he glares down at himself all the same. 

 

“Ever the bossy bastard.” Crixus sucks in a harsh breath as Varro digs his thumb against the mark on his hip. “I already told you, you will get what you crave. Do not be so impatient.” Crixus bites the inside of his cheek. It was like a completely different person from earlier. The grip Varro had on him, no longer carressing or comforting. Now tight, almost painful. 

 

“Then stop fucking around.” He growls not looking back. Varro licks the shell of his ear pulling back. 

 

“Next time we will work on your manners.” Varro informs yanking Crixus backwards. Crixus makes a decidedly unmanly sound for his efforts. “For now, you wish for this to stay away from Spartacus’ ears?” Crixus nods practically curled on himself with how Varro has positioned him. 

 

_ Smack _

 

Crixus gasps loudly. More force than before was being used. Something like relief seeps into his bones at that. 

 

“Speak.” 

 

“I do not wish for Spartacus to learn of this.” He answers. 

 

_ SmAck. _

 

“Good boy,” Varro’s voice barely registered over the moan that escapes Crixus’ lips. Naevia has expressed to him that there were parts of her body that were overly sensitive from lack of contact. Crixus has stupidly mistaken this knowledge as her inexperience. Now he understands a little better. 

 

_ SmackSMack _ . 

 

“Oh, fuck.” Crixus rocks back silently encouraging Varro for more. The flat of Varro’s calloused palm rubs across the curve of his ass. 

 

“Now, ask  _ nicely _ .” Crixus whines.  _ Smack _ . Damn, soft again.

 

“ _ Please _ do not breath word of this to Spartacus.” Crixus pouts.  _ SMACK _ . “Ah, fuck the gods.” 

 

“Better.” Crixus nods lamely not sure if Varro was praising him or asking him a question. His thoughts were scattered. His aching cock was leaking for attention. Each barely abused cheek was starting to gather a stinging heat. A single sane thought reminds him that Spartacus could never know of this was clinging to life. Yet that seemed less and less important with every hit from Varro. 

 

“Please.” He pants, “Please, Varro.” His brain was still catching up to what he was asking for. A guarantee that Varro was going to keep his mouth shut? Or something else?

 

“Hush. Worry not my Gaul. Your secret is safe with me.” Varro reassures tapping his fingertips across the underside of his cheeks. Crixus shakes his head. Hearing it out loud, no it confirmed that wasn’t what he was asking for. “No?”  _ Smack _ . A groan echos against the walls. 

 

“Please.” He whimpers. “Varro,” Varro watches him, straining himself to stand still. One wrong move and this was over. Gone. Forever. And the rest of Crixus’s attentions as well. 

 

“Please what Crixus?” He asks, hoping to sound more confident than he felt. The way Crixus lowers his torso down raising his ass higher was a comfort to his ego. 

 

“H-harder?” It was little more than a plea. A soft question. Simple. The proof of inexperience in matters such as this. Varro swears it was pure will power that he did not finish with that small question alone. 

 

**WHACK**

 

“ _ Fuck _ !” Crixus shouts his fingers tightening around the edge. Varro leans so he could see the Gaul’s face. His cock twitches when he notices the smile. 

 

“And Varro answers.” 

 

_ WhackSMACK _ **_Thwaaaack_ **

 

Three good hits in a row has Crixus throwing his head back. Screaming slightly. Varro pauses, checking the door to make sure the guards have yet to come question the noise. Not that he thinks anyone would. Yet he knows if anyone heard them, (Ashur), Crixus would probably hesitate in doing this again. Varro looks down and almost moans at the redness Crixus’ skin was turning. He couldn’t help himself.

 

**SmackThwack**

 

“You’re going to get us caught.” He teases, hardly pausing in his swings. Again and again his hand connects with Crixus’ ass, distracted by the way the ample flesh of his ass ripples and jiggles as it bounces. Varro could easily imagine his cock between his cheeks. Opening him up and having him begging for more. Not unlike he was now. 

 

“Varro, please, Varro. Ah-fuck- harder please.” The sound was music to his ears. Urging him on, regardless of privacy, or secrecy. Varro grits his teeth, refusing to find completion by this act alone. If anything he expects _Crixus_ to first. The thought was fuel to his fire. Doing what Crixus wished without even thinking about it. His frustrations with himself an easy target. The heat coming from his hand was nothing compared to Crixus’ skin. True to his word, Crixus’ ass was quickly going from a bright pretty red, to a concerning shade. He pauses, noticing a distinct handprint turning a little purple in some places. 

 

“Shit.” He whispers. Crixus whines again, wiggling some more. Almost taunting Varro to continue. Varro curses under his breath. “Stop moving.” He warns, both hands massaging a cheek. Logic was trying to work its way into his brain. It was difficult to ignore the spots where he could see the evidence of his fingers. A squeeze and release. Watching the skin burn white before fading back to red. 

 

“Varro.” The man’s ass was too abused for his voice to hold such a warning tone. Varro makes a face reaching between Crixus’ thighs. The whimper was more satisfying than it should have been. 

 

“You seem mighty close to be sounding so demanding.” Gods was that  _ his _ voice?

 

“And you seem mighty tired for the small amount of effort you’ve put into this.” Crixus challenges right back. Varro shifts closer, head resting on Crixus’ lower back as he fists the Gaul’s cock slowly. 

 

“Tired no. Cautious yes. Besides. If you wish to finish with just a spanking…..” His voice trails off letting Crixus’ mind fill in the blanks. 

 

“Fuck you.” Varro laughs softly. 

 

“Please do.” Crixus looks at him over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.

 

“So you  _ are _ cock hungry.” Varro almost rolls his eyes. 

 

“Watching you, listening to you, it has had its effect on me.” Varro admits unabashedly, rutting  against Crixus’ thigh. “However, we shall test your cock against Spartacus’ later. For now, I wish to see your red ass bouncing against me.” Crixus opens his mouth to argue but Varro doesn’t let him, “I know, with the strap-on, you love struck fool.” Crixus blinks at him. 

 

“Love struck?” Varro makes a frustrated noise. 

 

“Or whatever your reasons are, just fucking- Crixus, please.” He swears if his own slip of the tongue fucked this over for himself he was just going to walk off the damned cliff. He could feel Crixus watching him, but he couldn’t find the strength or motivation to lift his head. 

 

“Waiting on you.” He speaks after a few moments. Varro looks up at him so fast his neck actually made a popping noise. Crixus looks at him in slight concern, but Varro was scrambling across the room so fast there was no time to question it. He watches in silence as Varro digs through the chest. In a way he supposes it was endearing? How much Varro wanted him. At the moment though all he was focused on was how eager he himself was for this. His ass was throbbing as if trying to compete with his heartbeat. 

 

Eyes never leaving Varro, Crixus reaches under his bed pulling out a small bag he usually reserves for the nights he was alone. Knowing the blond was desperate, and wasn’t that an arousing thought, has him thinking Varro could be too hasty in his hurry. A proper preparation was going to be required if he was to take that wondrous monstrosity up his hole. 

 

Varro glances up at him as he was securing the straps. They both stop in mid-motion when he does. Crixus blinks, doing what he could to keep his expression neutral. An amazing feat for someone with two fingers up their own asshole. 

 

“Jupiter’s fucking cock.” Varro stares at him. Transfixed on the way Crixus was slowly working himself open. Crixus tries not to feel too pleased with himself watching Varro fumbling with the strap-on. The man was trying to secure himself while watching Crixus at the same time. And it wasn’t working out overly well. 

 

“Trouble?” Crixus asks neutral expression. 

 

“Fuck this.” Varro snarls dropping the strap on. Less than two steps and he was back behind Crixus. Crixus stiffens a little, prepared to fight if necessary. He was unprepared for another slap across his backside. His wrist was roughly snatched, removing himself from his hole. 

 

“Varro.” The warning was true this time. Varro mutters something under his breath that Crixus couldn’t make out. It was when a familiar, cold, head was breaching him. A shaky shout of surprise leaves him. He hadn’t even seen Varro with it. Not that he wasn’t relieved or thankful, but he was simply confused. 

 

“Move.” Varro demands with a couple more hits. One for each side. With an aggravated noise Crixus crawls further onto the bed, making room for Varro to kneel behind him. Humming, Varro reaches around him tracing a circle around Crixus’s wet head. “Never tell Spartacus of this.” The request sounded vaguely like a threat. Crixus was going to ask what he meant, but Varro twists the marble further inside of him, preventing his speech momentarily. 

 

“What the fuck-ngh- shit.” Crixus moans arching towards him. 

 

“Never.” He reiterates. Crixus nods rocking against the toy. If Varro would shift it down  _ just _ a little…. “Good.” Crixus’ eyes fly open when Varro pulls him by the hips so he was stradling the Roman’s thighs. He feels Varro shifting behind him. He didn’t have to wait long to understand what was happening. 

 

It took a second to realize what sensation he was presented with. Bending and twisting Varro has managed to line his cock against Crixus’. Crixus turns a little to be able to see better. Varro murmurs unintelligently positioning the base of the marble against his hip. With a quick thrust, more of a test really, Crixus discovers that the way Varro has it wedged leaves the man’s hands free. He quickly finds use for them, wrapping both around their cocks. 

 

“Gods be fucked.” Crixus rolls his hips trying to angle the marble how he wanted it. If he was paying attention he would have noticed Varro’s attention on his ass. 

 

“Forgive me.” Varro breathes out. Crixus barely gets to glance at him before Varro’s hips were snapping in rapid motion. Fucking into his own fists, coaxing Crixus’ to do the same. With a curse Crixus smacks away one of Varro’s hands. 

 

“I forgive shit. Make use of self and manage the marble damn you.” Varro pants loudly not bothering to look up. Although even with the added motion of fucking Crixus with the toy his rhythm never falters. Crixus keens, delighted when Varro takes a damned hint. Moving the marble to a position that reaches deep enough inside Crixus to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with every forced thrust. Crixus shivers matching Varro’s movements, for a moment. 

 

It was sudden, but it was unmistakable. The desperate whining was a sign. Varro’s errating jerking of their cocks, hand slipping here and there, almost forcing Crixus’ away, hips out of rhythm. Minutes. Barely that, and Varro was stilling behind him, a broken shout tearing from his lips. Crixus’ eyes widen feeling his hand slick with hot liquid that wasn’t his own. Varro shivers against him moving hand from cock to wrap around waist. Crixus was trying to process what had happened. Yet Varro had other plans rather than let Crixus come to grips with this, he starts pounding the toy into Crixus without mercy. Crixus has to catch himself on the bed before he falls face first against the corner of it. A wet sticky slap echos in the cell. The added texture more than enough for Crixus to rut into his hand spilling his own release onto the pathetic cloth he had as a blanket. 

 

The two of them catch their breath for a moment. Silence hung between them for a few beats.

 

“Varro.” Crixus licks his lips a smile forming.

 

“Don’t say it.” Varro snips standing up quickly moving to clean them off. 

 

“Someone has to.” Crixus was out right grinning at this point. Varro huffs handing him a damp cloth. 

 

“ _ Someone _ needs to be careful the next few days. Apologies but I seemed to have gone overboard with your spanking. Although not without insistence from you.” Crixus grimaces feeling the soreness start to seep in. He removes the toy carefully before rolling onto this back. He winces at the sensitivity. 

 

“Well….I didn’t-”

 

“Don’t.” Varro warns. Crixus chuckles looking at him. Varro was glaring at him a finger pointed down in Crixus’ direction. 

 

“I understand why you prefer Spartacus.” Crixus nods. Varro folds his arms. Crixus bites back some laughter. “If you only last so long without him.”

 

“And there it is.” Crixus barks out a laugh when Varro throws up his hands. “Believe me when I say this Crixus;  _ that _ part of this whole thing was a one time thing.” Crixus tucks his hands behind his head. 

 

“So you’re telling me next time you’re not going to finish with just, what was it,”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“ _ Five _ strokes?” Varro sighs deeply bowing his head. 

 

“I have never….found completion so quickly. I swear to you.” Crixus nods a shit eating grin on his face.

 

“Mh-hm.” Varro shakes his head finishing cleaning himself and the toys off. He grimaces glancing into the strap-on. Watching Crixus stretch his own hole had been his undoing. He was lucky he managed as much as he did. “Why were you asking forgiveness?” Crixus asks with a tilt of his head. Varro glances up.

 

“My terrible performance. I had wished to add to your bruising by force of hips alone, but that seems as if it is going to have to wait until next time.” Crixus blinks at him. The thought had his spent cock twitch in interest. Wait…

 

“Bruised?” Varro laughs loudly.

 

“Unless Domina suddenly wishes to try a strap of her own I think you should be safe. However do your best in the baths for a day or two. Suspicions would do neither of us well for now.” Crixus nods, his grin returning. 

 

“Spartacus has never brought you to the edge so quickly then?” Varro pauses as he packs away their supplies. He could see the joy in Crixus’ eyes with the possibility of this notion. The absolute hope. Varro couldn’t help but beam at him. 

 

“No Crixus. Only you.” Crixus smiles proudly settling onto his bed. 

 

“Good.” Varro chuckles with a shake of his head. They both jumped at the knock on the door. “Who the fuck?” He growls. Varro steps to the side, just in case it was someone he didn’t trust. Like….anyone but Spartacus.

 

“Crixus!”

 

“Duro?” Oh goody. “It’s late. What the fuck-”

 

“Please I’m sorry, I know. It’s just….I awoke and my brother was missing. I can not find him.” Varro doesn’t have to look at the idiot’s face to know he was desperate. Crixus sighs heavily.

 

“Alright. Let’s go. The oaf is probably in the baths.” Varro nods. He has never seen Agron, it was Agron right, fully submerge into the stone tubs. Possibly wished to be alone to do so. Donar was like that oddly enough. Varro chuckles listening to the two walk away. How hilarious would it be if they found Agron with Donar? Locked in a passionate frenzy? Still chuckling Varro slips out of Crixus’ cell intent for his own. He had not realized how late it had gotten. 


	36. Noticing Him, Noticing Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gannicus' first thoughts on a new recruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait you guys. We are working on making this schedule thing I have planned out work. You guys are really the best for being so patient and supportive. Your comments, bunnies, kudos and summaries are super appreciated thank you guys.

Gannicus grimaces at the bright sunlight as he steps from his cell. Huffing, he stumbles over to the shade, cotton-mouth eager for some water. He shakes his head trying to ignore the ache as he takes his seat. Blinking, the Celt surveys the sands taking note that there was more recruits today than yesterday. He thinks. Maybe? In all honesty he couldn’t remember any of their names, but one of them looked different. Plus he thinks there was only three previously, now there seemed to be four. Had to have been a new one.

  
“Doctore,” He calls out blinking at the one that has been knocked on his ass. “I would work the palus, in the shade.” Doctore nods and motions to him with a twitch of the whip. Gannicus grins his relief stepping off to sneak some much needed drink.

  
“Fucking recruits.” he overhears Barca complaining to Oenomaus. He smirks happening to agree. They do get smaller. Gannicus continues his attack on the wooden man, continuously glancing to the new recruit. He wonders when the fucker was brought in. Had to have been sometime yesterday while he was getting rewarded. Gannicus chuckles remembering his night.

  
“Apologies.” The Celt was drawn from his thoughts when he hears Oenomaus speak to Barca. He has to tear his eyes off the newbie. Luckily he does so in time to see the Beast of Carthage get his ass handed to him. Gannicus knows better than to laugh, especially when Batiatus first compliments his friend, and then unknowingly insults him. Sending that new guy, fuck what did Dominus say his name was? Consus? Something like that. Gannicus nods to himself, remembering someone had mentioned to him that Batiatus bought a slave from Tullius. Why, he has no fucking clue.

  
“Gratitude.” Oh? “For your instructions.” Gannicus blinks staring at the distance. He had seen the man, but had never expected the voice to be so….deep and raspy. He couldn’t repress the snort when Oenomaus barely lifts a finger to have Consus on his back again.

The rest of the day was….unusual for Gannicus. Anytime he looks up from whatever it was he was doing, it seemed his gaze would fall on Crotos. Not that he could explain why. The bastard just seemed to be in his line of sight. Tan skin already glistening with sweat. The thought has him furrowing his brow. He couldn’t tell you who else in the Brotherhood was tanned. Sighing, he settles in for dinner, making light conversation with Barca as he and his man taint the recruits food.

  
“Have you sparred with that Gaul yet?” Barca glances up as he mixes. Auctus smirks at him,

  
“Which one?” The Grecian asks for the Beast.

“Fuck if I know his name. Consus? Chronos? Castus?” Auctus and Barca laugh loudly, enough to gain Gnaeus’ attention. Gannicus motions for the nosy Gladiator to shove off.

“Crixus. You drunken idiot. His name is Crixus. And he has no brains in his skull.” Barca chuckles deciding he was finished with the food with a satisfied nod.  
Gannicus makes a mocking face and a laugh.

“Whatever his name, how does he fair? It’s been a while since a recruit showed any promise.” Auctus nudges Barca but gets an eye roll for his trouble.

“He could do alright, with proper training.” Barca mutters. Gannicus nods, glancing over at him again. Crixus was helping put away the logs, unlike the other three. Idiot pup was still diligently working. The man was shorter than the stack, and had to reach up on the tips of his toes to get the last one in place. Gannicus blinks realizing his eyes had trailed down the Gaul’s legs. Shaking his head he turns back to Barca.

“Ah well, we shall see.” Gannicus smacks both of them on the shoulders before heading towards his cell. He had a fight to prepare for in the morning anyways. There was wine to drink.He bids some of the others farewell, not wanting to pay too much attention to the recruits. Poor bastards. It was tradition to eat piss porridge. He remembers those days too well. Grinning to himself, Gannicus settles on his bed, jug in hand trying to remember the words to a song one of their dearly departed brothers had taught him when he was a recruit.  
“Cock, rises? Fuck, that’s not right.” Gannicus grumbles taking a few swings thinking about his previous friend. He supposes he would ask Barca in the morning. Nodding, he strips out of his subligaria. Always preferring to sleep bare assed anyways. Chuckling Gannicus lets his mind wander over the events of the day. A lot has happened. All in a matter of hours. Frowning, he continues drinking. Hoping to forget a few moments, and interactions.  
Especially that new recruit. The short one with the scruffy hair, and long legs, tan skin…  
Crixus.

Gannicus falls back onto his bed unable to ignore the echo of the younger man’s voice in his ears. Glaring at the ceiling he takes a few more swigs. Only half noticing his cock hardening at the thought.

A couple more swigs. Some blinking.

“The fuck?” Gannicus looks down at himself raising an eyebrow. Must be the wine. He muses with a shake of his head. The Celt sighs thinking what a burden it is, to have so few women to please and such a-

“Rages!” He shouts in delight. Ecstatic that he remembers, Gannicus tosses something around his waist, deciding to honor his fallen brethren by shouting the song to the heavens!

 

Of course Oenomaus has to come and ruin all of his fun. Figures.

But his friend was right, as always. There was a street fight in the morning.

 

He was grinning from ear to ear as he was walking through the Ludus’ halls. Gannicus could only imagine the look on his brother’s faces when he came back victorious. Oenomaus would be proud. Barca would say something about being just as good. Crixus would stare at him with that damned awe struck look.  
Gannicus frowns. Why should he give a damn and a half about how that little cunt looks at him. They haven’t said a word to each other directly just yet. Shaking his head, he steps through the door, pushing the thought aside.

He didn’t think that it would be such a big deal. Not his return, no he knew that would be an amazing ordeal. What he didn’t think he would notice so much was Crixus’ gaze. Gannicus could feel those dark brown eyes burning into his skin like a flame. He forces a smile while Oenomaus talks, trying to recall if he knows the color of anyone else’s eyes.

Melitta’s were brown too.

WINE, it was more than time for wine.

“For those that bare the mark, of course.” Gannicus laughs looking over his shoulder. He meant to just toss the statement back towards those who were not yet Gladiators, but seeing Crixus already looking at him, that threw him for a loop. As did his eyes, trailing down to the curve of Crixus’ ass of their own accord. As if he didn’t have better things to look at. Like wine and women.

“One day.” He hears the Gaul encourage the others. Like a true leader, a true Champion should. Blinking, Gannicus forces himself to turn away from Crixus, so he could be engulfed by the crowd of the brotherhood, moving to share in some wine and try to ignore the prickle he gets on the back of his neck. After the first few times he stopped turning around to meet Crixus’ gaze. The last time he did, it was an instant regret. The Gaul was halfway through undressing, ready to bathe while the Gladiators drank.

Now, Gannicus has obviously seen another man’s cock. They bathe, eat, sleep and fight together. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary. He just didn’t think the image of Crixus’ would be stuck in his mind four bottles of wine later as he tries to fall asleep thinking of future victories. It was rather annoying actually.


	37. Fucking Thracians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus has a lot on his mind. Does he find the courage or the strength to ask someone about these ever troubling thoughts he has? 
> 
>  
> 
> SPOILER:  
> No. No he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I'm trying to do better I swear. A chapter of SL is going to be out this week and I'm going to try and get two things for the challenge out too. No promises on the Challenge. By the by this chapter is set before A Thracian Free Night, (Chapter 35) We are making head way through the series. Sort of? Definitely making a good case for this to be a nightmarishly long story lmao. Your comments, kudos, bunnies and summaries are always appreciated! Thank you guys again! I hope you enjoy!!!

It was ridiculous. Crixus blinks stupidly down at his hip as he washes himself off from the latest coupling with Lucretia. The damned thing was small. So simple. He’s made a few of them himself. He ignores the twitch of his cock thinking of Spartacus. And the ache in his heart thinking of Pietros and Barca. He could barely pretend that his stomach doesn’t twist, a blond smile flashing across his thoughts. A mark. He’s been…. _ marked _ . Curiously he looks down at the brand. The mark of the Brotherhood. Batiatus’ claim on Crixus. Shoulders heavy, his gaze finds his hip once more. 

“Fuck.” He whispers stepping out of the baths. The rest of the Gladiators were going to rise soon. And he needed to have this covered before any saw. Briefly he wonders if Spartacus or Varro were going to mind seeing it. 

Not that he had a chance to ask. Oenomaus was in a mood today. He was barking orders and hardly allowed any room for banter or chatter. It was no shock to have Varro paired with Spartacus. Having Agron pair with Donar was new. Usually the elder Rhine brother worked the pallus or bounced between Spartacus and Varro while Duro tried his best with Crixus. 

Yet as always, it was all too easy to send the pup smacking against the wall. The dumbass only managing to block the next hit because Crixus had to dance out of Rhaskos’ way. Thrusting his sword almost in the entirely wrong direction. Crixus barely has to move a muscle to shove Duro behind him, not bothering to glance as he smacks the idiot across the back and ass with his sword. 

The shout of surprised pain gave Crixus pause. 

To his chagrin the simple act reminds him of the other night. Flashes of memory scorches across his mind, skin pebbling at the thought of Varro’s palm across his own backside. 

Duro tries to swipe at him again. Easily parried, shield colliding with shield, shoving him backwards. Crixus lowers himself ready to sweep the pup off his feet, but was actually avoided. The little thing was able to jump out of the way. He could practically hear Barca laughing, suggesting all sorts of things Crixus could do with Duro’s long legs. Frustrated, Crixus makes a wide swing, bringing his shield down the second his arm was out of the way catching Duro’s sword to bring his own back. Hitting the younger on the back of the arm, mouth thinning at the lack of concentration. A heavy blow sends Duro bouncing backwards. Crixus notices he was light on his feet. Something that could be used to the man’s advantage should he take it. 

Crixus sighs taking a step back, setting an easy trap. One Duro falls for. Lunging forward, allowing Crixus to all but slap the sword from the pup’s hand. Moron didn’t even have his guard up, watching in mild shock and terror as his weapon leaves him. 

A hard kick to the chest was a hard lesson for the little bastard. Finally having the sense to use the shield, desperately clutching it with both hands Duro tries to stand his ground. Poor thing. Crixus was pent up, having been too long from the Arena his aggression was startling even to himself. Of course he knows of a curly haired Roman who could easily handle it. Pacify Crixus’ agitation and, well…. Crixus scowls, realizing he was wanting something specific. What he wasn’t sure of. Which was simply even more frustrating. And yeah, okay  _ maybe _ he used more force than he meant with that next swing, sending Duro flailing onto his back. 

He could feel Doctore watching him. Waiting for signs of struggle or distress. Crixus takes a deep breath stepping backwards. Idiot pup has never seen him fight properly. He should take a small amount of pity on him. The man has served him no insult or grievance anyways. 

“This isn’t the  _ arena _ .” Duro pouts sounding almost worried and confused. Crixus snorts. Agron truly spoiled the little thing. 

“The  **world** is my arena, pup.” Crixus explains with a twirl of his sword. Always one for a fair fight, Crixus stabs the wood into the sand. Duro makes a sort of aggravated shout, before  _ literally _ throwing his shield at Crixus! 

He was a little impressed. Not going to lie. It was easily blocked, however, as shocking as the move was. Crixus glares intimidatingly at Duro, slightly insulted by the pup’s stupidity. Duro slowly stands, eyes narrowing. Being from the East of the Rhine, Crixus wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge. Although he should. The Gaul doesn’t miss Duro glancing at his brother, who has somehow moved from sparring with Donar to Hamilcar. Something Crixus was going to ask about later. Obviously, the brothers have had a discussion about situations like this if Duro’s squared shoulders meant anything. 

Duro takes a few steps forward while Crixus drops his shield. Lip curling as he throws a punch. Crixus almost snorts at the attempt. Opening his arms and stepping back just enough to catch Duro around the middle as his fist misses Crixus’ face. His heart suddenly hammers having the solid, warm body pressed against his own. Without missing a beat Crixus tosses him away as if burned by the touch. 

Something his freshly healed wounds strained against. Stunned, panting slightly he looks across the way to Doctore. Their eyes meet as Crixus turns around, always careful not to have his back to his opponent. Never again. 

“Send me a  _ man _ .” He growls, refusing to pay attention to his stirring cock. 

Crixus doesn’t have to turn around to know two pairs of blue eyes were staring him down. Each belonging to a man worthy enough to fight him. To top him. Crixus blinks, his heart lurching at the thought. The sound of approaching footsteps causes him to turn around with hardly a glance at Duro. 

Being slugged in the face by Agron was unexpected. 

He recovers fast, whipping around, adrenaline spiking. Fucking cunt thinks he can just interrupt his fight? Crixus makes quick work of a one-two combination hit. Taller means  _ nothing _ to him. He’s all too happy to take the lumbering tree down a peg. When Agron doesn’t do much more than take a step back before jabbing Crixus in the mid-section, Crixus realizes that, alright; the bitch knew how to brawl. A fist to the jaw makes Crixus blink, raising a hand to smack Agron’s arm, snatching it in his grip, gaining the advantage. If Agron was going to stay standing after a hit, then Crixus was going to let him. Practically holding him in place, Crixus lands two hits to the face. Agron swipes his free hand blocking a third. 

Furious, Crixus simply slaps the utter shit out of him. The taller curls to soften the blow to the side of his head, leaving his right side open for a better hit. Gaining momentum, Crixus throws a jab of his own to Agron’s ribs, followed by a solid punch to the nose. An uppercut finally has the Rhine bitch on his back where he belongs. Blood seeping from his face covering his mouth. To Crixus’ surprise, he doesn’t hesitate to stand up again. 

“Stand down!” Oenomaus’ voice carries over the noise around them. Crixus hesitates but freezes. Almost smirking at the death glare he was receiving. “Agron!” The older Rhine brother turns his scowl to Doctore. Not a smart choice. “Duro.” Crixus glances behind him, unsure of when the pup regained his stance. He almost feels bad for the way Duro was clutching his side. 

“Enough.” Crixus sighs, Oenomaus’ voice softening as he looks at the younger. Crixus frowns wondering why they were both in trouble. Truly Agron’s dumbass was the only one at fault here. 

Crixus bounces on his toes, hands still balled into fists, wondering if Doctore was going to have them  _ both _ spar with Crixus. A smile curls his lips thinking about it. He could easily brag to Spartacus and Varro later if that was the case. 

Apparently not.

“Haf rations for the rest of the week.” Oenomaus informs calmly. “Test my patience again, and I will see you  **both** to the mines.” Crixus huffs as Agron walks away. Watching Duro pick up his sword and shield Crixus sighs, shoulders sagging with a shake of his head doing the same. Barely two weeks have passed since the pup has earned the mark. Has yet to step foot in the arena as he mentioned before. As a recruit and a new Gladiator, Crixus remembers wishing someone would take a small amount of pity on him. To show even a sliver of kindness and gentleness. 

“You did well. For an idiot.” Crixus comments passing with a small pat on the shoulder. Duro makes a shocked sound catching Crixus’ attention. They stare at each other for a moment before Agron reaches over and starts dragging his brother away with a curse in his native tongue. 

Crixus smirks giving a nod to Dominus as Batiatus heads out the gate, Ashur’s punk ass in tow. With nobody to spar with he makes his way over to get some water. His heart lifts noticing the two erm….well he doesn’t wish to call them  _ his _ lovers but they were lovers nonetheless, standing around the basin. 

Tucking his sword under his arm, Crixus takes Varro’s place while the Roman goes to ask Ashur something. Crixus allows himself a glance at the way Varro’s ass bounces when he walks. Clearing his throat he fills a cup. 

“Your man has run afoot.”  _ Spartacus’ _ man. He reminds himself. Just like Auctus was Barca’s. 

Or Pietros was. 

Crixus ignores his thoughts, deciding to bait the Thracian instead. 

“Perhaps, you’d care for a  _ real _ opponent.” He suggests looking up at Spartacus. Hoping intent was not missed as he drinks some water.

“Are you so  **eager** to return to the Medicus?” Spartacus challenges right back, copying Crixus’ movement. Crixus raises his cup to snap something back about only going back there to visit the mad dog, but a guard stepped into view. 

“Crixus. You are summoned.” Fuck. Right. Lucretia. How the hell was he supposed to get back into shape with the red-headed she devil taking up all of his spare time? 

Crixus finds himself smiling despite himself. Slowly, ever so slowly, his life was going back to normal. Once he becomes Champion again, Spartacus and Varro will fall into the same position as Barca and Pietros had in his life, Lucretia would be a consistent thing, and even with the added bonus of Naevia! For the first time since Spartacus’ revival from the pits was Crixus’ life going his way. 

 

Crixus was still smiling as he made his way up into the villa. Naevia meeting him at the top of the stairs. She politely smiles at the guard as the man walks away. Crixus watches him go before quickly gathering Naevia in his arms, stealing a heated kiss. She gasps clinging to him for a moment before pushing him off.

“You have lost the small amount of sense you posses.” She scolds. Crixus grins at her, noticing that her face betrays her words. 

“Apologies. I’m simply in a wondrous mood.” Naevia shakes her head, looking slightly troubled. Crixus leans down as she turns her gaze away. “What is the matter, my love?” Naevia sighs.

“Nothing really. It’s just...I’m worried about Mira.” Who? “But there is nothing to be done. Go, deal with Domina.” She gives him a quick kiss. “Do your best.” Crixus grimaces turning the corner. 

 

Black. Lucretia was wearing….black? Crixus racks his memory trying to remember if he’s ever seen her wearing the color outside a funeral or a mourning period. Definitely never up close. He couldn’t decide if he likes it or not. Not that it really matters. His cock barely stirs in interest as she wraps her arms around his neck. He remembers when they first started to enjoy each other. His interest seemed to show no end. Spending nights staring at the ceiling in awe that someone as beautiful as Lucretia enjoyed his touch. Crixus feels a little guilty about not even thinking her as all that pretty anymore. Was he shallow? Did he fall in love with Naevia simply because she was young and beautiful? He hopes not. Doesn’t  _ think _ so. He enjoys her company. Their small chats, just as much as he enjoys their stolen kisses and quick fucks when they can manage them. 

 

Crixus buries his face into Lucretia’s neck trying to focus. Willing himself to harden as he carries her to the bed. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. That much was certain. Not that he had a choice. Maybe he himself was getting old? If he had difficulties making his cock erect? Being honest with himself, he still finds Lucretia’s figure alluring. Knows that her welcoming cunt would still bring him to completion. It was more of her personality that he was starting to dislike. 

 

Personality seemed to be key, now that he thinks about it. Crixus registers her moans, and groans. Her demands as he thrusts into her wet slit without much thought. But it was more like muscle memory to bend her the way she enjoys. Hips jerking as his mind wanders. Gannicus was all smiles and laughter. Barca was well, Barca. Firm but meant well. Pietros was just so caring and gentle. Naevia was a bleeding heart, she loved him more than anyone has ever before. 

He refuses to consider Spartacus. The Thracian was a distraction and nothing more. A small comfort in lonely nights. 

Varro on the other hand. 

Crixus blinks, pulling back, his face uncomfortably hot. He braces the back of her knees on his shoulders, sweating slightly in his effort to keep pace. Varro was...protective. Tender. Firm. A thrill goes up Crixus’ spine thinking of how  _ demanding _ the blond could be. A dominating nature that was so open for flexibility. Crixus moans thinking of that damn strap-on. The very thought has him leaking. It was a ghost of a real fuck. He shivers all too easily imagining how Varro would treat him without it. Open palms setting skin aflame, stinging his skin with every hit. Each across his ass.

Lucretia’s shouts brought him back to his task at hand and he was stunned to realize how close he was. Cursing under his breath, Crixus angles himself better, feeling her convulsing around him. He grunts roughly milking his own release with more effort than was necessary. Just like she enjoys. She slaps at him to unbend her. He complies easily, catching his breath. 

“Tarry a while.” What? Crixus blinks at her, especially when she grabs his hand keeping his arm wrapped around her. This was …. Different. He glances up noticing Naevia wasn’t anywhere in sight. Lucretia planned this? 

She asks him difficult questions. He had to choose his words carefully. Hating the memory of his, well, he won’t say defeat. Near death experience? That worked better. 

In being honest he may have lead her to believe that his heart was where it wasn’t. But...there was something so  _ raw _ in her eyes. It’s become apparent the last few months that Lucretia was starting to see Crixus as more than her personal sex toy. Disturbing. Not that he could discourage her. That would end in his death. Or worse. 

“You are mine Crixus. Mine and mine alone.” Lucretia whispers, rolling forward, holding onto his arm. Crixus lies still staring at the back of her head, heart sinking. Even if he saved up all the gold in the world; Lucretia would never let him leave. Especially with Naevia. No matter Batiatus’ opinion. 

 

Naevia collects Crixus a little while later. She seemed stiff. Crixus wonders if she had heard any of the conversation he had with Lucretia. Usually stuff like that left the young beauty in a foul mood. He waits until they were at the stairs before he stops her. 

“Naevia?” He asks gently. She takes a deep breath and turns around to look up at him. Eyes flashing. 

“Strip.” She demands. Crixus almost chokes, glancing up at the guard at the gate who looks just as stunned as the Gaul. 

“Wh-what? Why-” Naevia huffs grabbing at his subligaria and lowering it. “Naevia!” He gasps startled. The guard, Saville, Crixus thinks his name is. Looks unsure of what to do. 

“What’s that?” She snaps taking a step back and pointing. Crixus blinks, realizing his clothes were only lowered enough to expose his hips. He glances down at the bruise before looking up at her bewildered. 

“A-a hell I don’t know what they are supposed to be called. It’s a mark. You saw it the other morning when Domina made it.” Naevia nods curtly. 

“Exactly.” She hisses, shoving past him trying to go back up the stairs. Saville and Crixus glance at each other before the Gual takes the steps two at a time to catch her. 

“Naevia, whatever grievance I have caused-”

“Do not  _ dare _ apologize without knowing why!” She almost shouts. Crixus has decided that Naevia must have lost her damn mind. Acting the way she was. “I told you last night. The gods mock us. Having you without having you. Watching you parade around with that snake’s claim on your skin. It’s torture.” Naevia explains throwing her hands around, almost jabbing him in the hip as she points to the mark. Crixus could feel his head spinning. This was getting out of control. Either she was going to cause enough of a ruckus that Lucretia was going to hear of this. OR, Naevia was going to decide that this wasn’t worth it. That she was done with Crixus. Neither of these options were acceptable. 

“Then make one of your own!” Crixus blurts out like a fucking idiot. Naevia scoffs at him. Originally when he said the words he wished to stick foot in mouth and bite. But now that he’s spoken them an idea was forming.

“We both know why I cannot.” She snips. Crixus blinks at her, settling his hands on her arms. 

“No, listen. Make a mark; in the same place!” Naevia tilts her head. 

“Add to her mark?” Crixus makes a frustrated noise. 

“No. Mark  _ over _ hers!” He could see when it registers. Elated, she kisses him with enough force to send him stepping backwards. Wrapping an arm around her, Crixus pulls them against the wall. He moans, his spent cock already stirring. Having Naevia this close to him always had sense fly from mind. Crixus gasps when she pulls away, her mouth finding every inch of skin she could reach. He forces himself to stand still, afraid of scaring her out of this new task. They never really have time to explore one another. Stealing moments of spare time when they could didn’t truly allow such things. Truly, just because she has had his cock didn’t mean she was no longer a virgin. Still so innocent in many things. Crixus swallows thickly when she sinks down onto her knees. 

“Crixus, I-I’m not entirely sure h-how?” Her question falls short but Crixus chuckles. 

“Bite, gently, and suck.” He instructs, loving the dark pink her cheeks turn at his words. As much as he would enjoy her covering Lucretia’s mark with her own, similar instructions could also be directed towards the right a little. Crixus forces himself to focus. 

She nods and carefully uses her mouth to cover the bruise. Crixus hisses at the contact of her teeth. Nervously she looks up at him, but Crixus motions for her to continue. He glances down noticing the curiosity in her eyes. His breath hitches as she gives an experimental suck. His entire skin burns suddenly. His cock springing to life without hesitation, straining against his subligaria. Crixus bites his lip, his head hitting the wall with a thunk. Instinctively his hand tangles itself in her hair, when she tried to pull back. Reassured, Naevia becomes more insistent. Crixus could feel his legs shaking, her hands steadied on his thighs. If she continued on much longer he was going to embarrass himself to death. 

“N-Naevia.” He whispers. She pulls back a small gasp escaping her lips. 

“Did I hurt you?” She asks, her concern heartwarming. 

“No, love. I simply did not wish to make fool of myself.” Her eyes widen but she stands all the same, righting his subligaria as she does. 

“Apologies. For my behavior earlier. I am not myself this week.” Crixus smiles, trying not to laugh as he cups her face. 

“You are always yourself. And look,” They both glance down as he lowers the cloth to show the mark. Darker than before. “Task met. Do not fear your passion. You hold my heart, and the flame of which burns fiercely and brightly.” Naevia blushes.

“Are you saying you did not mind my outburst?” Crixus beams kissing her nose.

“In honesty, I rather enjoyed it. Perhaps we shall try it again when we have more time?” He offers, wanting to encourage her to explore any avenue of her desires. Brightening, she nods and all but flounces back down the stairs. Saville and Crixus share a look, the guard looking a little relieved that they had returned, and pitying at Crixus. The Gaul nods at him. Women. Always so damned emotional. 

 

He rejoins the men in time for midday meal. Noticing how they crowd around him. He smiles, and laughs with them. Eyes always returning to Varro and Spartacus. The only ones who have yet to engage in conversation with him. He knows that Varro was continuously looking towards the gate. Waiting for Ashur’s return. Probably paid the Syrian fuck to go check on his wife and child. Understandable. And so damned noble. Thoughtful and kind. Love sick. 

Crixus shakes his head unable to stop grinning. Alright yes, he enjoyed the Roman’s company. Unlike so many others in the Brotherhood who would simply prefer it if the blond got himself killed. Romans weren’t exactly favored as gladiators. Crixus just couldn’t help it. Even with his skin tingling at the thought of what Naevia has done, his mind finds its way back to the other night. 

Himself, Varro and Spartacus, all tangled together. The sound of his ass getting slapped. Crixus almost chokes on his spoon when his cock throbs at the memory. Was it possible? The simple motion was pleasurable but….did he truly enjoy it  _ that _ much? 

Crixus falls silent, letting the others around him talk and joke. Vaguely he spots the Rhine brothers in the back. The pup looking at him full of hope and wonder. The back of his neck prickles and his eyes slide back over to Varro. 

The bastard winks at him. 

Crixus scowls turning back to his meal. It was as if the man  _ knew _ Crixus was thinking of him. Of his hands- Crixus drops his spoon and makes his way back to the sands to start attacking the pulvinus. 

He was  **Crixus** , the Undefeated Gaul. Soon to be once-again Champion of Capua. He did  _ not _ enjoy being spanked! The very thought turns stomach. 

And hardens cock. 

 

Doctore was observant enough to not pair Crixus with anyone. Leaving him to attack the wooden man with fever. Crixus was thankful. He didn’t wish to focus on a real opponent. Rather to try and clear his mind. Not that this was working. Being by himself with just his thoughts, had him picturing all sorts of ways that Varro could have him. Bent over a bench, a bed, the baths. He knows what a punch and a slap to the back feels like when his skin was wet, he wonders if there would be an added sting to the blows should Varro punish him in the water. Furious with himself for not being able to rid himself of the thought Crixus ends up breaking his sword. 

“Crixus.” He glares up at the pup. “Urm- I was just...gratitude. For instruction, earlier.” Crixus blinks, watching Duro scurry off back to Rhaskos and Hamilcar. Curious he glances around noticing that Agron was nowhere to be seen. Not that he cares. Huffing, he storms to the medicus for the ointment he would need to clean his wounds. Having this much sand and sweat in them, probably wasn’t a good thing. Mostly healed or not. 

 

It wasn’t until after evening meal, in the baths did he see Agron again. Deciding to ignore both Germans, Crixus turns away from them, hoping that Spartacus and Varro would be too preoccupied with each other to question the bruise. Donar looks at it with a raised eyebrow but Crixus simply motions for him to suck cock. The taller man smirks but as usual says nothing. 

“Fucking Gaul.” He hears Duro mutter. Donar and Crixus glance at each other,

“Turn your thoughts.” Agron is heard cautioning his brother. Crixus smirks at the blond who rolls his eyes and walks away. Apparently, Agron was so focused in his anger that he didn’t recognize the awe and longing in his brother’s voice. “I’ll have at him soon enough.” Or perhaps he did? Crixus ignores them, he has his wounds to clean after all. 

He sinks down onto the bench, placing his feet into the water. His back wasn’t too happy with this motion, having exerted himself overly much today. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Duro saunter out. A lot more confident than he was a few weeks ago. Crixus realizes he was watching the pup’s ass and curses himself. Opting to continue cleaning the sand off of him. He almost forgot how tedious this was. 

“You lie!” Crixus jolts, startled at the sudden shout. If he didn’t see Varro lift Ashur up and shove him against the wall he would not have believed the voice came from him. 

“Varro!” Spartacus calls rushing forward. Crixus knows the Thracian wasn’t going to intervene, as Ashur explains himself. 

The word blood sent Varro into a rage. 

Crixus stares in shock watching the Roman, it was like a different person. Blinded by his anger he allows Ashur a few good hits, and even has them tumbling into the bath with a loud splash. Some of the other Gladiators with no hope for fortunes scramble to aide. Those who never favored Varro hold him down for Ashur to gain a few good hits before a few who despised the Syrian wrestles him away. 

“Guards!” Oenomaus’ voice carries. Crixus was unsurprised to have Doctore separate the two. Varro, acting like a wild animal as he was dragged off. Crixus looks over to Spartacus who looked worried sick. Shaking his head, Crixus stands wrapping a towel around himself he makes his way over to the Thracian. 

“Your man has run afoot.” He comments, once more. 

“He has good reason.” Crixus snorts. 

“Go comfort and calm him. I wish to discuss something with you in my cell afterwards.” Spartacus glances at Crixus before nodding and headed off after Varro. Crixus watches him go, feeling his stomach twisting into knots. It was never easy to talk with Spartacus. Never easy to voice thoughts, desires, fears. Fuck he doesn’t think he truly ever has! What the fuck was he thinking? 

 

Crixus paces his cell for what feels like hours. But he knows by the flickering of the torches flames it has barely been a few minutes. Nervous. He, Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, was nervous? He frowns at the ground turning on his heel. Absolutely ridiculous. It was just Spartacus. Crixus was gnawing on his lip when the door to his cell creaks open.

“Crixus?” He almost flinches. This was his idea and yet here he was. Taking a deep breath Crixus looks up at Spartacus. 

“Spartacus. Gratitude for your appearance.” The Thracian raises an eyebrow, stepping inside. Crixus glances behind him, moving to shut the door himself. 

“What’s this about?” Crixus shifts a little not able to look Spartacus in the eye. 

How was he going to phrase this? He should have thought this through. It wasn’t even that important was it? Did he  _ really _ need to know if that was a one time reaction? Crixus could feel his stomach twisting in knots. This was  _ just _ Spartacus but….Crixus looks him up and down. It was;  **Spartacus** . The man’s mood and mind shifted frequently. Did he trust the mad dog with this enough to tell him? He was brave enough wasn’t he? He could do this. Right?

“Crixus?” Their eyes finally meet and Crixus could feel what little bravado he built up just fall from his chest. He sighs heavily. 

“I saw one of the house slaves leaving your cell the other night.” Spartacus raises an eyebrow. It wasn’t a lie. Crixus and Naevia had both seen the woman. Mira he thinks her name is. The thing was, he just...didn’t care. Lucretia still sleeps with Batiatus, Barca and Pietros consistently slept with each other. He gave no shits of Spartacus having a female lover. Especially one that resembled the Thracian woman as much as the slave did. 

“She was sent because I am to lie with a Roman woman.  _ Domina _ ,” the disdain wasn’t missed, “believes me incapable of holding back seed until the bitch is satisfied because I have been many months without a woman.” Crixus couldn’t help the ugly snort that escapes him. Spartacus grins.

“Well, we all know how lonesome it can get here.” Spartacus chuckles.

“Of course, everyone here just avoids me.”

“Doesn’t wish to be alone with you.”

“Not a soul can stand me.” 

“It’s only because you’re so hideous.” The two of them burst into laughter, unable to continue with their own sarcastic thoughts. Crixus reaches forward wrapping an arm around Spartacus’ shoulders.

“All these strong able bodied gladiators surrounding me all day long, there’s just nothing to do.” 

“Now if only there was a way for you to find some sort of relief surrounded by men as  _ able _ as the Brotherhood.” He teases. Spartacus rolls his eyes nudging Crixus in the ribs.

“Imagine, if a man could get another man off the way a woman could.” Crixus’ grin quickly turns lecherous.

“Oh, I’m imagining it alright.” Spartacus tilts his head studying the Gaul’s face. There was a pause of silence before a smile slowly breaks across his face. 

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

 

Crixus felt a little bad. Here he was using the wall as support, Spartacus on his knees in front of him, while Varro was chained in the other room, worried to death about his wife and child. Once the man was out the two of them would have to soothe the Roman’s worries. Do anything to remind Varro that everything will work itself out, and that even if the worst is true, then they were still there for him. 

“Fuck!” Crixus gasps when he hits the back of Spartacus’ throat. He glances down and makes a face at the smug look those blue eyes give him. “You’re a cunt.” Crixus snips down at him, no real heat to his words. Spartacus pulls back, tongue lapping as he does, never breaking eye contact. 

“I’ve been told.” Crixus shakes his head a smile tugging at his lips. “What I have  _ not _ been told is what that is.” Spartacus remarks with a poke to Crixus’ hip. Crixus grimaces a little. He should have mentioned that before this. Not that it was his fault when Spartacus starts kissing him like he was starving for it, a natural reaction was for thoughts to fly away and senses to be lost. 

“As far as Lucretia knows it’s the mark she made on me this morning.” Spartacus raises an eyebrow. Looking like such a patient lover down on his knees like that. Crixus blinks a few times reminding himself to focus. 

“As far as she knows?” Crixus shrugs.

“I may or may not have had Naevia cover it with her own.” He confesses, scratching the side of his face. Spartacus glances at it and back up. 

“And is this a um,” Crixus feels his heart skip a beat when Spartacus licks his lips, “a Naevia only thing?”  They stare at each other for a moment. 

“Is that something you’d like, Thracian?” Spartacus tilts his head again. 

“I want to hear you say it, Crixus.” Crixus gulps, his heart thudding against his ribs. Never one to back down from a challenge, especially one Spartacus tosses at him.  

“Bite me, you bitch.” 

As if he needed a reminder of Spartacus’ strength, the Thracian reaches behind Crixus putting the back of his thighs on the smaller man’s shoulders. Crixus blinks down at him, rather impressed. Not that he was going to tell Spartacus. 

“If you insist.” Crixus shouts in surprise as Spartacus’ teeth sink into his already bruised hip. Briefly he wonders if it was necessary for both of the bastard’s hands to be groping Crixus’ ass. He doesn’t disway the notion let alone the motion, he simply questions it for a moment. Spartacus gives a quick squeeze as he works. Sucking carefully with a satisfied hum. Crixus bites his lip refusing to whimper. His cock was leaking, begging for some more attention. Instinctively he locks his ankles behind Spartacus’s head, arching his back while his hands tangle into the Thracian’s short hair. Nails scraping across his scalp, itching for someone to do the same to his own. 

“S-Spartacus! Don’t be a dick.” Spartacus chuckles pulling back, teeth flashing up at Crixus. 

“Eager are we?” He mocks, spreading Crixus’ cheeks enough for a finger to tap against his hole. Crixus whines flexing his entire lower half, holding Spartacus against him. Spartacus rubs small circles where he was, like he knows he was teasing him.

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you eager.” Crixus snaps at him. Spartacus laughs, helping lower Crixus back onto the ground. 

“You going to teach me a lesson Crixus?” Spartacus takes the slap upside his head good naturedly. 

“A much needed one it seems. Move you fucking rabbit.” Spartacus rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I know. I’m just  _ so _ disrespectful.” Crixus stumbles when Spartacus grabs his arm, dragging him to the edge of the bed. “I get it. Now, for once shut up and let me handle you.” He whispers, gathering Crixus into his arms. Crixus blinks at him. 

“You’re still a mouthy shit.” Spartacus winks crashing their mouths together, effectively stealing Crixus’ breath. With a moan, he allows himself to sink into Spartacus, parting his lips giving access for the Thracian’s tongue to tangle with his own. It was like a weight lifting off his shoulders to let Spartacus take charge. The amount of trust he held to have Spartacus lead him down onto his back, was startling. 

“Fuck the gods, you drive me crazy.” Spartacus breathes out, grinding down against Crixus. Crixus shivers, writhing in time with Spartacus’ hips. 

“Hurry up you shit. We haven’t got all night.” Crixus snarls, trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest. Trusted the Thracian? Sure the man was a good fuck, but he was still Crixus’ rival. The last time he trusted someone in the Brotherhood, well only the gods know what really happened to Barca. And the way Spartacus reacts? Went straight to Crixus’ cock. 

“Fuck you have no idea what you do to me.” Crixus could feel a tremor of foreboding. The problem is, his idiot self  _ loves _ hearing how wrecked Spartacus sounds so he doesn’t shut him up.

“Fuck.” He moans, Spartacus guiding him down onto the bed, all tender touches and hot kisses. 

“The way you dominate Duro, when you challenge me at every turn. You’re so frustratingly gorgeous. So violent, and yet,” Spartacus wraps his skilled fingers around Crixus’ cock, drawing a whimper out, “such a good little submissive.” Crixus frowns slightly. A what? He doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it, Spartacus apparently a changed man, one who listens to directions, has made quick work coaxing precum from his cock. 

“S-Spartacus,” He whines again. 

“Hush precious Gaul.” Crixus feels a thrill run up his spine. “I’ll take care of you, worry not.” It had been a long day, and such promising words were almost his undoing. Crixus claws at Spartacus’ back, hips jerking in the Thracian’s grip. 

“A-ah, ngh, Sp-Spart-ah-cus, damn you.” Spartacus murmurs something under his breath that Crixus couldn’t make out. “The fuck did you say?” He growls. Spartacus slides his way between Crixus’ thighs mouthing the side of his cock. 

“Shush darling, I have you.” Crixus’ eyes open his hands falling away from the Thracian’s hair, where they found themselves, 

“Wh-what?” Spartacus doesn’t elaborate, swallowing as much of Crixus’ cock as he could. “ _ Fuck _ !” He yelps gripping the edge of the bed tightly. He wasn’t lying. Spartacus had him. Nastily, dirtily. So damned wet. Crixus tosses his head back, mind reeling. The occasional slurping was fucking obscene. And it was driving Crixus over the edge. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying not to imagine Spartacus whispering in his ear, bending him over and just taking him here and there. The temptation was real, the urge to wrap his legs around Spartacus’ waist matching him thrust for thrust, guiding him to the right angle, listening to the Thracian just come apart. How he would just convulse in Crixus’ arms, feel Spartacus fill him so completely. 

“Ah, Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck,  _ Spartacus _ !” Crixus grabs Spartacus’ hair, hitting the back of his throat a few times, fueled by his own fantasies and the gagging noises the action of assaulting Spartacus’ mouth. Spartacus grips his thighs tightly, hollowing out his cheeks sucking on Crixus like his life depended on it. Crixus curses under his breath stuttering to a stop, muttering Spartacus’ name over and over again. Slowly Spartacus pulls up licking any excess he feels he’s missed. 

“Damn Crixus. I almost forgot how good you tasted.” Crixus raises his head off the bed wide eyed staring at him. What kind of fucking-

“You’re on another level of crazy.” Spartacus makes a face. “Don’t tell me you actually enjoy the taste of-” Spartacus laughs gently slapping Crixus on the leg crawling his way up.

“Yes you ass. I do.” Crixus shakes his head. 

“Psychopath.” Spartacus hums mouthing at Crixus’ neck. 

“Perhaps. But one in desperate need of a hand, or a mouth. Even a cock.” It wasn’t a question. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

“I’m only helping you because you brought me to completion and your man is still in time-out.” Spartacus laughs softly. 

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Spartacus grabs a hold of Crixus’ wrist, guiding the Gaul’s hand down between his thighs. “Until then, make yourself useful.” Crixus sighs, exaggeratedly annoyed. 

“If I must, to get you back to your own cell.” Spartacus barks a laugh reaching under him to grip Crixus’ ass. 

“You could always-”

“No.” Crixus snips almost snatching Spartacus’ cock into his grip. Spartacus moans, resting his head on Crixus’ shoulder. Crixus bites his lip, leaning his head back a little to watch the Thracian. It was mesmerizing to see the way his pleasure was rolling over him. The way his eyebrows knit together, his jaw slack, lips red, glistening with spit from where he was biting it. 

“You don’t have to sound so defensive.” Spartacus whispers, sliding a finger against his hole again. Crixus hisses when he was breached. “I know how much you enjoy that toy, I saw how well you took the strap. How pretty you looked falling apart from the inside out.” Crixus writhes, working his wrist as well as he could at this angle. Twisting and jerking at a pace he’s found that Spartacus enjoys. He found himself panting, thrusting down on Spartacus’ hand, silently encouraging more. 

“Not as pretty as you, you cunt.” Spartacus buries his face into Crixus’ neck rutting into Crixus’ grip. 

“Oh, but I had your cock. A very real, very hard, very  _ flesh _ cock. Not a toy. I could show you how much better it can be. Just picture it Crixus.” He whispers harshly, his breath ghosting under his ear. Crixus keens as Spartacus adds a second digit. “I would stretch you, have you begging for it. Watch this delicious ass just bouncing off my cock.” Crixus shivers, rolling his hips in time with Spartacus’, swiping his thumb across the wet cockhead. “You already say my name so nicely. The beautiful way you arch when you finish. I can’t help but want you. Have you clenched down around me, pulling my own release from me. I could pull your hair to make sure you know what’s happening. The same way you want me to right now.” Spartacus teases. Crixus gives a warning squeeze. He’ll admit he enjoys listening, but it was starting to sound too much like Spartacus trying to convince him. 

“Don’t pretend to know me.” Spartacus curls his fingers, moving the hand he had been using to support himself with to run his hand through Crixus’ hair. 

“I don’t pretend.” Crixus jolts, Spartacus’ fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with a twist. “I know you, and I know your body Crixus. I know how to make you scream.” Crixus leans into Spartacus’ grip. “And I can’t wait to do so.” 

Frantically, the two work each other, almost in sync. Every so often one or the other bucking or jerking out of rhythm. Crixus grits his teeth determined not to give Spartacus what he wants. Like everything between them, it has turned into a battle. Fighting for a victory that would have both of them satisfied. Crixus spreads his legs lifting himself a little, pleased at the access Spartacus gains from this act. Spartacus was shaking, trying to prove that he was able to best Crixus.

“The rabbit shakes in my grip.” Spartacus curses under his breath. Crixus smirks, relishing in the way Spartacus gives him a glare, knowing it means the bastard was close to the edge. 

“You’re a fucking tease.” Spartacus never plays fair. Does whatever he thinks will work to win. Crixus bites his lip when Spartacus tightens his grip. Crixus sucks in a harsh breath. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Crixus snips. 

“Now, you know I can’t resist temptation.” Spartacus roughly yanks Crixus’ hair, forcing his head back, exposing his neck. “One day I will show you what I can do to you. Until then, why not enjoy what I can do right now.” Spartacus licks up the side of his neck scissoring his fingers, watching the way Crixus writhes. 

Crixus could feel his self control slipping away. Favoring to use one hand on Spartacus’ cock and one on his own. Without any lubrication he knows he wasn’t going to get anything more from the Thracian, but having Spartacus finish and leave him in this state was just unacceptable. Something he doesn’t think would happen, but then again everything with Spartacus was a damn gamble. Mad dog was simply full of surprises. 

If Crixus was a lesser Gladiator, or a moron, he would have been caught off guard by the sudden change of direction. The way Spartacus tries to rearrange their position was stopped short by Crixus’ instinct of fight or flight. They blink at each other for a moment before Spartacus gives him a reassuring smile. Without words, Crixus was convinced that whatever was planned was going to be something he enjoyed. Taking a breath, he gives a curt nod, wondering when the two of them had started being able to communicate without words.  

Almost instantly he regrets his consent.

Crixus grunts when he was all but tossed off the bed. The only reason the Gaul’ ass didn’t hit the stones was because of the death grip Spartacus held onto his short bristly hair. Pain erupts from his roots momentarily blinding him, tears springing into brown eyes, beyond his control. Crixus could feel his face flush with the not so subtle jerk of his hips. Cock absolutely in favor of this new form of torture. 

“Treat the Roman woman this way and see an end to your life.” Crixus comments blankly. He’s not sure how he managed that with a straight face but damn it if he isn’t proud of that fact. Spartacus chuckles a little. 

“Roman women do not enjoy sucking cock. Unlike a certain Undefeated Gaul I know.” Crixus’ eyes widen slightly at the accusation. A defense is on the tip of his tongue, even with eyes flickering towards Spartacus’ leaking erection. 

“Says who?” Just stab him right now. That was the best he could come up with? If he  _ ever _ says something  **that** stupid again, Crixus was just going to walk right off the cliff. 

“My experience.” Spartacus whispers, cupping the side of Crixus’ face keeping a hand tangled in his hair. “Now I know the stone can’t be comfortable for your knees. Be a good boy and make this fast. For your own sake.” Spartacus’ voice was an octave deeper than normal. Raspy like he’s swallowed a few swords. Crixus looks up at him, startled to see how wide Spartacus’ eyes were blown.  

“A please wouldn’t hurt.” Crixus huffs. Spartacus growls roughly, squeezing Crixus’ jaw until it opened wide. 

“Neither would doing what you’re told.” Crixus could feel his bruised hip ache with its abuse, a reminder of what a dangerous game this could be. Eyes narrowed slightly, his tongue snakes out, flicking at the wet slit. Spartacus’ breath hitches. “Please.” His resolve instantly crumbling with just a simple act. Crixus could feel a small surge of control. Something he wasn’t exactly used to having in this position. 

With a shrug, Crixus leans forward doing what he could to take Spartacus’ cock as far back into his mouth as he could manage. Spartacus shivers above him, releasing his hold on Crixus’ jaw, 

stroking his jaw comfortingly instead, murmuring reassurances and endearments. Crixus was fully prepared to make quick work of the Thracian. Pleasuring someone orally being something he was well equipped to do. Instead he gags on a shout; Spartacus wrenches Crixus’ hair, directing his skull like Crixus was a common whore. Carelessly hitting the back of his throat, ignoring the gurgled protests, and irate grunts.

Crixus could feel his face grow hot, a vein popping in his forehead. He feels as if he could drown in the excess drool. Hands supported on Spartacus’ thighs, he attempts to pull back, if only to breathe. Spartacus simply chases his mouth. Sounding more and more frantic with each sloppy thrust. He wishes the worst part could be the humiliation of being taken in such a basic way. A convenient hole and nothing more. Unfortunately, it seems the gods were punishing him. The thing that made all this horrible was the way his eyes fluttered closed. Spartacus pulling on his hair causing a muffled curse to fade into a broken moan. Cock at full attention with no permission to do so. Faintly he could taste the clear beaded liquid that practically weeps from Spartacus’ cock and Crixus’ stomach flips, eager for more. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was if Spartacus would shut the fuck up. Accompanying his moans and whimpers was just a waterfall of praises. All focused on Crixus. 

“Such a good job. Ah- _ ah _ . Ah fuck Crixus you’re so wonderful at that. So- ngh- so damned pretty. Perfect for me. Fuck,  _ fuck _ .” It was maddening. To learn that he was starved for more. Insistently, Crixus bobs his head trying to match Spartacus’ brutal pace. Desperate for friction Crixus was thrusting into the air, silently begging Spartacus to keep talking. He doesn’t think he would last any longer between the positive affirmations and the hair pulling. Being manhandled the way he was, was a surprising twist that has every nerve in his body on edge. In the absolute best way.

“Jupiter’s cock, just think about how good you could be for me bent over. Just let me take over, spread those tan plump cheeks, and stretch that pretty hole of yours with my cock. Nya-ha, already so damn talented with your mouth. I could make you feel good too, you know I could. Fill you up just the way you crave it. The real thing is so much better than any cold marble Crixus-” Crixus’ nails dig into Spartacus’ thighs, a shiver running down his spine. 

“Oh you thought I forgot, no love, I haven’t.  _ Crixus _ .” Crixus jerks, gagging more than he meant to at that. Spartacus’ honeyed voice washing over him like an aphrodisiac. “Crixus, I would shout your name to the heavens! The gods shall know you by the time I’m through. Your tight heat sending me over the edge.  _ Fuck _ Crixus!” Spartacus’ voice fades into a breathy chant of his name. Driving Crixus up the wall. He runs his tongue along the underside of Spartacus’ cock, jaw starting to strain with the effort to keep his teeth at a safe distance. Crixus mentally curses glancing up at the Thracian. 

A wave of guilt passes through him quickly as he realizes there hasn’t been a prettier sight in his life than Spartacus splayed in reckless abandoned on his bed, pinning and whining for release. He prays forgiveness to Naevia for this. At the time he doesn’t question not even briefly thinking of a blond Celt. His momentary guilt bypassed for the thrill of watching Spartacus falling apart between his lips. Crixus groans, sliding a hand down, fisting his cockhead, hissing at the slight over stimulation. 

“ _ Fuckfuckfuckfuck _ Crixus! Crixus I-I-ah _ -ah _ !” Spartacus bucks, the hand in his hair twisting. Crixus moans watching Spartacus bite his own arm, a muffled scream heard through the flesh. He works furiously to swallow the load. Hot, salty and slightly bitter Crixus feels his balls tightening up to his body, milking Spartacus for everything that he has. Damn he was so close it hurt. “ _ Crixus _ !” Spartacu shouts loudly, louder than safe, his back bowing, planting his feet flat and forcing every last inch of himself down Crixus’ throat. Crixus ruts into his own hand spilling over his fingers, coughing and gagging at the rough motion as he does. 

Shakily, Spartacus pulls back, releasing his hold on Crixus’ head, one leg just falling off the side of the bed, dangling uselessly while he flops backwards onto the bed. Crixus uses his clean thumb to wipe the edges of his mouth, before he reaches over to his chest and uses an old rag to clean off his other hand. 

“Feel better?” Crixus questions, his voice a little gruffier than normal. Spartacus hums, tossing an arm over his eyes. Crixus rolls his eyes at the small smile on the Thracian’s face. 

“Do you?” The shit head teases. Crixus snorts. 

“If I didn’t, you’d know it.” Spartacus peaks an eye at him, a mischievous glint setting Crixus’ nerves on edge. 

“Sounds like a challenge.” He judges. Crixus sucks his teeth for a second. 

“Perhaps not. We have a busy day on the morrow. Varro is going to need us both at full strength.” Crixus reminds him. Deflecting because of  _ course _ he feels better. When was the last time he came twice in the same hour with the same partner? “Go to your cell you fuck. I shall see you in the morning.” Spartacus stretches lazily before nodding. 

“Sure.” Crixus blinks staring at him. 

“Well?” 

“Well what?” Crixus huffs not finding the fuckers grin amusing. 

“Your own cell?” Spartacus winks, patting the two inches of bed space next to him. Rolling his eyes Crixus strides over to the door and swings it open. 

“Out you ass. Regardless of favors or enjoyments shared you are still my rival and I will still regain my title from you.” Crixus points out. Spartacus pouts but slinks forward, snatching his towel off the floor as he does.

“You’re such a tight ass.” Spartacus whines, giving Crixus a light slap to his ass as he passes. Crixus jumps a little. Thankfully Spartacus didn’t see it. He watches the Thracian go down the hall before falling onto his bed. Now more confused than ever on what to do about this….was it a problem? He wouldn’t know until he tested it out. Why would he trust Spartacus as much as he realized he does earlier just to pussy out at the last minute. Crixus sighs, rolling over onto his side, mind wondering. And it always comes back to the same image. A curly blond Roman, bending Crixus over and just tearing up his ass. Black and blue hand prints littered across his skin. 

With a moan, Crixus buries his face into the sad excuse he has for a pillow. 

“Fucking Romans and Fucking Thracian's are going to be the death of me.” 


End file.
